This Much I Do Remember<\/p>\n
It was after dinner.
\nYou were talking to me across the table
\nabout something or other,
\na greyhound you had seen that day
\nor a song you liked,<\/p>\n
and I was looking past you
\nover your bare shoulder
\nat the three oranges lying
\non the kitchen counter
\nnext to the small electric bean grinder,
\nwhich was also orange,
\nand the orange and white cruets for vinegar and oil.<\/p>\n
All of which converged
\ninto a random still life,
\nso fastened together by the hasp of color,
\nand so fixed behind the animated
\nforeground of your
\ntalking and smiling,
\ngesturing and pouring wine,
\nand the camber of your shoulders<\/p>\n
that I could feel it being painted within me,
\nbrushed on the wall of my skull,
\nwhile the tone of your voice
\nlifted and fell in its flight,
\nand the three oranges
\nremained fixed on the counter
\nthe ways stars are said
\nto be fixed in the universe.<\/p>\n
Then all the moments of the past
\nbegan to line up behind that moment
\nand all the moments to come
\nassembled in front of it in a long row,
\ngiving me reason to believe
\nthat this was a moment I had rescued
\nfrom the millions that rush out of sight
\ninto a darkness behind the eyes.<\/p>\n
Even after I have forgotten what year it is,
\nmy middle name,
\nand the meaning of money,
\nI will still carry in my pocket
\nthe small coin of that moment,
\nminted in the kingdom
\nthat we pace through every day.<\/p>\n
–Billy Collins<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
This Much I Do Remember It was after dinner. You were talking to me across the table about something or other, a greyhound you had seen that day or a song you liked, and I was looking past you over … Continue reading