The Forgotten Beach

On a forgotten beach in Korea, 

A plastic hippo lies on the sand

It’s paint scraped off, belly split

Abandoned by careless hand

The blue waves crash on to the shore

The breeze tastes of rust and salt

Once soldiers trained here for independence, 

Their chants sharp and their orders harsh

Now only stories and memories linger 

Of prisoners walked pass the dunes

But now forgotten

Even their footprints vanish with the return of every wave

The hippo holds a secret

An unseen magic woven into its plastic layer

That keeps the past alive in a whisper

Waiting for someone curious enough to approach

Pink

A lobster magnet 

From 2nd grade summer camp in maine

grips the fridge door

Its magnet worn off 

holding up nothing

I open the junk drawer

and it catches halfway

A flashlight, rubix cube, a birthday candle

black at the wick

A pencil line on the doorframe

with initials and a date

Written in atomic tangerine

The 2 is written backwards

A rolled up rug in the back of the living room

Collecting dust

Has been ever since i smeared

Pink instant hair dye 

Must have been a 4th grade sleepover 

The fridge hums

the same note it always has

I press my forehead to it

and feel it in my teeth

Instructions for Holding a Disappearing Thing

1. Pin it to your eyelid before the alarm rings

2. Scoop it from the pillow with a silver spoon, lift it to your lips and taste in small sips

3. Look for residues of whimsy hallucinations left in the tangled depths of your hair

4. Stare at the ceiling and ask what it has seen, if it remembers anything from last night’s glade

5. Fold and hide it in the sock drawer like sacred treasure so no one tries to steal it 

6. Speak only in half-words so it lingers just a little longer 

7. When it starts slipping away, catch the end of its thread and knit an ugly sweater with it. Unpleasant memories are always more durable than happy

8. When it vanished completely, dig your face into the pillow and seek for the last scents of delight