the memento tinge

on things that should otherwise
be burnt

or buried
or recycled

into benign

nothing but a memory

of smoke
like lovers who smoked

but were otherwise

I’m sorry
I should be specific

and name the articles
their vivid

catalogue of virtues
and bitterness

but I got rid of the lot
and the incompetent chords

of my memory
cannot bring them back

so I’ll just have to say
I made it all up

this life I once had that
they’re ‘celebrating’ now

while my gardens of junk