Taking on a Challenge

Last week, when I was talking to one of my students, Kara, about a writing exercise that starts with, "I remember," and then shifts to "I don't remember," she tweaked the assignment and challenged me to write a poem that began with "I don't remember."  So I wrote a poem.  In its earliest draft, the poem began with the suggested line.  But, as it underwent revision, the beginning moved to the middle and became the crux, or turning point, of the poem.

BETWEEN THE LINES

I like to be the first one asleep

and the second one awake;

I like knowing someone else is in charge

of keeping the clocks ticking.

And I like to prop my door just so,

not quite open,

not quite closed,

as though I will be more likely to know

when the future scurries past

like a rat in search of yesterday’s cheese.

I don’t remember a day when I wasn’t afraid,

when I didn’t wake with a start,

shocked to find myself

still part of this planet,

still breathing yet still,

and I always have to stop myself

from imagining the worst.

If I were a flower, I would be a thorn.

If I were a coin, I would land on my face.

If I were a mirror, I would reflect beauty,

unable to capture it for myself.

If I were a chorus, much loved and often sung,

I would long to be a forgotten verse.