Disposition

Is it that you want to forget, leaving memory intact,

but buried; or that you want to flee it altogether, purge it,

only the emptiness of its absence remaining? Either way,

take my hand, my heart, my tongue. We’ll run somewhere

neither of us has been before, yet mutually familiar.

In reverie communal, we’ll recall the past to rest assured

that memory, on its own, its disposition as was destined.