HOW DO MEMORIES DIE? | Lê Vĩnh Tài [475] – Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

Photography by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

How does memory die?
Does memory die?
Memory dies?

Drifts away lightly and softly, down your cheeks, onto your pillow. Each drop is a memory. Each time the palm of your hand happens upon it, the memory turns sour, becomes bitter and it would hurt.

Day in day out the memories, they drop in, they crawl into your pillow. You have no choice but to leave your mark behind on the pillow after they fade away with your memories, you’re lost, and they’re forgotten.

THE MAXIM OF MEMORY

Are her experiences, playing jump rope on someone’s heart. She laughs: It’s a musical movement? Like the beating of the heart? Does she want him to be moved or she just wants to make him sick? Or is it how she makes you disappear? Or maybe it is the maxim of poetry? Or perhaps she thinks he wants her to be the wind just for him?

She applies the maxim to make your poetry feel more relatable, these maxims are your habits of overthinking and your need to conform. Because the poem is truly just a thought, a feeling stripped bare by you, to then be dressed up with your vernacular, the way you put on the fake woollen cardigan she gave you, when she came back from her trip to Korea.

Because after she utters the five syllables, she would proceed to add an extra seven syllables. She laughs: Is this a haiku?

AN OLD PERSON’S HAIKU

The older I get the more I’m surprised by my youthfulness.

Don’t hide your emotions. When you scream, the pain is more bearable than when you bite your tongue. Love, the further, you are, away, the more, closer, you are, to me.

She would remind me time and again, if you really want the haiku, you should learn to stop talking, there’s no point in adding useless comas everywhere.

Source: HOW DO MEMORIES DIE? | Lê Vĩnh Tài [475] – Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

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