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July 17, 2020 Poetry

Memento Mori, or in Other Words

Stephanie Tom

Memento Mori, or in Other Words photo


Canada Goose — the age-old adage of 
whether or not a ton of bricks or a ton 

of feathers is heavier & the fact that it’s
always the feathers 
because you have to live 

with the guilt on your shoulders. Where 
wings would have been in another life. 

This is how we number our days — by 
the weight of our woes & every word left 

unsaid. By the way we measure miles as 
heartbeats between every stroke of 

lightning & thunderclap, storm as substitute 
for the liminality of our lives. Mixtapes as 

memory, one static stutter at a time with 
every record & strip of road racing beneath 

our feet. How long we love even when a 
heart has gone silent. Did you know that 

the brain still flickers for a moment even 
after our lungs give out? The realization that 

mortality was real all along. Ask anyone — 
ask the geese that used to flock at the pond 

but disappeared not too long ago. After all, 
nothing ever feels like it’s living until you 

realize that time will steal it away someday.

 

image: Nico Frey


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