Signals (poem)

Whatever was is
We grew up in the past
Before pocket phones and zip codes

Halfway to forgotten
Do wop duck and cover
We live our memories

Replacing broken with bent
Voices sliding across caught
Between history and a hard place

Words scars shadows fit
The splash and ripple of recall
I cut and paste the past

The messy mercy of triage
Hand-to-hand in the syllables
Rough draft real

Comes down dark each day
More shadows than you can shoot.

—D F Brown