By Pamela Strachman
I close my eyes, drifting, dreaming.
Where did I leave your image?
I search through memories: colored bits
of tissue-paper childhood, crumpled, torn,
yet vivid; tests and school papers,
black, white, red-inked; paintings of friends
and former lovers in water colors or oils,
a few rough sketches in charcoal; postcards
of places visited and unvisited; a sand-painting,
each grain a new experience; your face is gone.
I open my eyes, see you watching me; mix my colors
with blood and paint your memory again.
Pamela Strachman has been writing poetry her entire life. She attended the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts and Boston University.