The Mortal Calendar
Those days that seep into eternity,
sweep through the thoroughfare with defined
they bring to mind and help us recollect
birthdays, first kisses, anniversaries,
those spectral days that we remember still
before the power of memory has gone.
Each year, as Merwin says, we pass the day,
that final day on which we pass away,
and move beyond the mortal calendar
to leave the memory of what was done
to those who may remember for a time.
Someone is already forgetting us.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Conor Kelly would
be pleased to hear them.