Forgotten Matter

By Nicole Hallengrogg

Mornings I still wake and find I must Talk myself
Back into existence.
That tuft of hair risen
Above me
A reminder of restless sleep.

There were times in my youth
That I could not wait
for morning
and lie awake
Waiting
For the promises of dawn.

These days I lie awake
Anticipating tomorrow
Agonizing today
Left with that hope
That pride
That Sense,
That Nothing,
So frequent

Imagination is hopeless
My father would say
He believes that
His life
Is the one that counted
All male
And hardened
But death and wars
Trophies left standing
On mantles
Like Romans'.

Is that what is real?
Can those symbols
Show us some greater true
Those dead rise from
Unnamed graves
and tell us
What so many
Can't hear.

Left with matter
That shines
When polished

What makes him
Sit so proud?
And me, slumped over
Like some forgotten fruit
Telling myself
at night,
When all the words are
Buried in my forgotten grave
That tomorrow
I will make
Something happen.