Mnemonic
--
They were busy when I entered the room
A collection of half men
From high school
Primary school
Some from work
I can’t see what they are doing
Or hear what they are saying
As I approach
They recede into the gloom
Suddenly I’m at the bar
Drinking whiskey
One of the half-men is at my elbow
Whispering
I can’t hear what he is saying
Then he’s gone
The bar brightly lit, clean
Like I nodded off and got cleaned up around
But the murmuring of the huddle persists
I cannot see where it is from
A passage behind the bar
Leads me downstairs in the dark
Until I burst upon them again
They scatter screaming mutely
Terrified by my appearance
Turning to run
My way is blocked by a wall of schoolboys
With striped red and black ties
Suffocating me with their silent regard
Behind me the gaping silence of the men
This is the hall of my memory
Where everything I know
Has gone to die
I recognise
The mutterings as prayer
The men as all my dearly departed friends
Fading, become less
The longer I survive them
Just as I find the right words to say
I awake in the darkness
With rain falling outside
Alive
Still not knowing why.
