By Robert Castagna

In a place I walk now and once walked 
years since, memories remain in a house
located in a room that echo the words 
I spoke some time ago

In that room lies a book, the pages dog eared
and the margins marked with bold assertions
So this is what it means! it proclaims
to no one

By that book is another, a book of poems 
written by a tall woman that I once loved
and in those words I love again
love being imagined over and over

And next to that book a textbook where
theories pertain to the memory and its anatomy 
not being poetic but scientific 
and dated years ago

And in this way we circle around
contemplating the origins of the past