What I’ve Forgotten

What I’ve Forgotten

Poem by Cal Nordt
Art by Katie Nordt


I never forget my keys
or my grandmother.

I remember having a
blank sheet of paper
come up in my first
reading as “Featured Poet.”

I held it up and said,
“This is called:
I Have Nothing To Say
and I’m Saying It.”

I remember my age and
forget it at the same time.

Who said being able to hold
two contradictory ideas in
the mind at the same time
is a sign of genius?

I think it was Einstein,
but I forget.

Someday when I’m dead,
I’d like to remember
everything – the human brain
has files for every event
we’ve ever been in on.

The human brain doesn’t
last long after death.

If my immortal soul is linked
to my transient body, would
it remember the rest of me?
Climbing mountains, woods
walks, welcoming babies from
my wife’s womb.

Or, it might remember
nothing, or the traumas,
or the pain.

A soul again a blank page,
having lived in me in my
own form, picked up some
bad habits, forgotten them?

Will I be there? Maybe
in a small corner,
or not.

-refers from the word “babies” in Darren Edwards poem I’m Not Yet Ready