Joe Grieco

Touchstones 

When you are old, like I am old, and bring

  The teacup to your lips, then pause for space

  To feel the steam uncoil across your face,

You might attempt to hear your heart remembering

A moment from your past that took to wing

  So long ago that you can’t join the chase:

  A net made out of vapor won’t encase

Or trap the visions sewn with flickerings.

And yet you’re sure that somewhere something happened

  That cut across your flesh beyond skin deep,

Like talons on a bird that’s now misshapen.

  Your memory adrift. Old wings lie in a heap.

You can’t recall why all your touchstones overlap.

   Now drink this brightened tea:  will help you sleep.