Not This

my god all the days we have lived thru
not this
one, not this,
not now,
not yet, this week
doesn’t count, was lost, this month
was shit, what a year, it sucked,
it flew, that decade was for
what? i raised my kids, they
grew i lost two pasts–i am
not made of them and they
are through.
we forget what
we remember:
each of the five
the fevered few
days we used to
fall in love.

Olena  Kalytiak Davis, "Not This" from The Poem She Didn’t Write and Other Poems.  Copyright © 2014 by Olena  Kalytiak Davis.  Reprinted by permission of Copper Canyon Press,