Last night I crafted a breathtaking first two opening lines of a poem.
It was the middle of the night, consciousness foggy, room dark, and I told
myself to write it down so I could finish it in the morning.
I remember grabbing my phone to physicalize the words.
They were actual words; down to the very line ejamb
memt; I remember that.
(too much?)
And I couldn’t when I woke up remember what the two lines were.
And they were nowhere.
And still to this very moment, I can’t remember if all of this was a dream or not.
Mary's One Hundred 