Forgetting Names

I can’t call up the familiar name
of our vet, who walked out back
with us through heavy snow
to check our feverish cow
in this day’s quickening darkness.
My skittering memory
only shows me
his thick hair and kind gaze,
his hand gently resting
on our old dog’s head,
a blessing easily bestowed.

No name comes to my lips
although somewhere
a space in my mind
prompts the letter D.
Eyes closed,
I drift into that space
untangled
like a fish free of a net
swims gratefully into open waters.

There I remain, no thought at all
for long moments, when somewhere
behind my eyelids I see
a complicated garment
sagging at the shoulders
where it’s held
as if by invisible hands.
I know this
is the lifetime my soul wears.

Vastness like a perfect secret
stays with me
as I open my eyes,
remembering of course
we’re outfitted in ordinary guises,
going by names
as if simply human.
And I recall the name he wears.
It’s Dave.




Laura Grace Weldon lives on Bit of Earth Farm. She's an editor and marginally useful farm wench. Her poetry collection, Tending, is due out autumn 2013. Her poetry has recently appeared in Pudding Magazine, Red River Review, Shot Glass Journal, Christian Science Monitor, The Shine Journal, Iodine Poetry Journal, J Journal, flashquake, Atlanta Review, Mannequin Envy and Dirty Napkin. She's the author of Free Range Learning and slow at work on her next book, Subversive Cooking. Keep up with Laura at http://lauragraceweldon.com/blog-2/