Engram by Ahren Warner

As the wrinkled skin of milk over-boiled
conjures the sludge of moistening bath balls,

the pucker of wet paper – graphite’s aquaplane –
summons up bubble bath, its faux-clementine.

And, though I know that a single memory
so often beacons through our infant clutter,

I’m surprised that (though only a decade ago)
I remember the red, the nap of the pyjamas

I shed for the bath; how urgent it seemed
to run bare-arsed and dangling

in search of a pen and the paper I’d hold
in muculent hands; each letter bleeding

to a smutch or shadow. I remember this.
I cannot remember my first kiss’s name.

From: http://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2014/feb/03/poem-of-the-week-ahren-warner

Date: 2013

By: Ahren Warner (1986- )

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