The Forgotten

(The poem is not from the Ironmongery manuscript but is in The Soup of Something Missing and originally appeared in the Alaska Quarterly Review, University of Alaska, Vol. 19 No. 1 & 2, 2001 pge. 271.)

The Forgotten

We waited for trains for what seemed our entire lives.
The thickness of dust on suitcases, a sign of stature,
the discipline of remaining, even as the tracks rusted.
I felt my flesh thickening, eyes yellowing, the world dulled,
waiting to travel someplace I’d never been.
Our hearts quickened when the ground rumbled.
A dog running between the tracks was a sign from God.
Once, two men sat on their suitcases playing cards.
The loser gave his suitcase to the other and walked away.
His hair, I recall, was thinning.
What was he saying? Something
swallowed by the rustle of leaves.
Do people who disappear from our lives
forget us as easily as we forget them?
On warm afternoons I removed my coat
and stood with it folded over my arm.