I REMEMBER

I felt pain,
but not how
that pain
felt. I felt love
but can't remember
that either.
I know they bled
together, but that,
too, escapes me.
Same thing with lust,
& joy, & misery, & fear.
I cannot conjure
their presence
except that their presence
was as real
as breath.
It's like that
with everything
remembered:
spaces taken
that remain
empty
empty
empty.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2015