When I was young I had braces on my teeth and when they were taken off, the metal brackets were left on my back molars
Only removed long afterwards, I tasted tinfoil for years
I remember that sensation like something I learned but forgot about
A hole where the knowledge escaped

The origin of the word zeitgeist at the back of my breath
Is a matter of time plus the ghost
I’ll flip a coin/ stay right where you are
An inherent crookedness:
Either never see snow again or let it fall forever

Things that remain
Like storms from the decade when I was a child
Electricity caught on speech impediments
Remembered in hindsight
Things that vanished but somehow also didn’t
Long after we’d swallowed them whole

Nate Maxson is writer and performance artist. The author of several collections of poetry, he lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.