There they are, suddenly, memories
like starfish out of nowhere,
some harmless, some come
to turn their stomachs inside out
and abuse the reef.
The girl on her knees, the girl
begging to be let in,
the light through maples of childhood's
summer walk to Melissa's backyard.
Brightness.
A stolen narcissus dipped in gold,
the smell of lake skin on spring air.
Strange how they come, memories,
as if on tides, disconnected
from the day's hot bleed.