The moon forgets that we see
her wax and wane. Heaving
our tides into place,
she’s busy and it’s hard
to remember anything
when the stars are so sharp
and everything down here is
smudged. You understand.
You insist that your past
can only take its proper shape
through forgetting,
and that the residue
of memory’s alchemy is ash.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 27, Issue 2.
Lee Potts is founder and editor of Stone Circle Review. His work has appeared in Glass: A Journal of Poetry, The Shore, The Night Heron Barks, Rust + Moth, UCity Review, Moist Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. He is the author of two chapbooks: And Drought Will Follow (Frosted Fire Press, 2021) and We’ll Miss the Stars in the Morning (Bottlecap Press, 2024). He lives just outside of Philadelphia with his wife and daughter.
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