Remember the river? That's it, I remember. and worse, in the spasm of remembering i can not tell if my past keeps slipping into the present, or my present keeps slipping into the past, still my body wears your fingerprints like a home address. I was carried in the teeth of your charm, or i walked, i marched, i was a turning cheek parade, i wasn’t paying attention to the highlighted root, or the was no map and i just got lost, but with every journey back into our past it becomes harder to find our way there, our brains are constantly rewriting the path, rewriting what we remember, so let’s start at the end. Sabrina Benaim – “How to Fold a Memory ... Don’t miss this beautiful poem from Sabrina Benaim, featuring at Amsterdam Bar and Hall in St. Paul, MN. As an example, she writes for the enjoyment of breaking down stigma. Get your copy of Sabrina’s book, DEPRESSION & OTHER MAGIC TRICKS. Album Depression & Other Magic Tricks . This site uses cookies. A Reading of: How to Fold a Memory by Sabrina Benaim by Emotional Beefcake published on 2017-09-14T05:33:39Z. A wink and a crooked smile. Please check out Button Poetry’s privacy policy. You know the truth hurts less when it is not parading around in front of us. I had to lay time flat and still the treetops. Speaking of bourbon, Kentucky was barrels on barrels, an old-fashioned "yes, please" cornmeal fried catfish. How to Unfold a Memory Lyrics. Please be advised that shipping to these countries listed in the link above may be delayed for extended time periods. Clocks with Roman numerals and the street lamps, wha, the street lamps! Our brains remember the infliction of pain via physical, psychological or emotional, we remember what is bad as in means to avoid it in the future, so let’s start at the beginning One might have found me akin to a scoop of ice cream atop soda pop bubbles light as air without care for the impending melt. The cricket stripped grateful for the Angels share like "goddamn, this air tastes delicious". International Mail Service has been Suspended to several countries. Kentucky was hot, all barefoot, blue flame and I wouldn't see. She is Get your copy of Sabrina’s book, DEPRESSION & OTHER MAGIC TRICKS. Bust/Width measures across the bust 1″ below the armhole, seam to seam. I saw you looking back because I was looking forward, and my jaw was a clenched fist I could not throw because the truth hurts loudest when you toss it around. Silent-treatment, the fantastic devastation of unwanted silence that heavy slink. Wraparound porches, the porch swings, the American flag... Dizzy, I had to lie down before the church at midnight. Swimming pool, daydreams, the sticky hands of lust tiptoeing, earthquake how it was always, but never the right time. Bare bone, wind chime, bear skin, dunked in full moon feelings. I loose memories like baby teeth, but you are a stubborn molar refusing to leave. How to Unfold a Memory Sabrina Benaim. A wink and a crooked smile. High Point Shoulder (HPS Length) is measured from the highest point of the shoulder to the bottom hem of the shirt. In Kentucky there is a pile of bricks I could not use to measure the space between us. “My body wears your fingerprints like a home address.”. Don’t miss this beautiful poem from Sabrina Benaim, featuring at Amsterdam Bar and Hall in St. Paul, MN. I remember the shape my hand held while in yours like origami prayer, like flower petals returning home, i remember the rose petals, falling from your fingers, leading from the bedroom to the doorway, like a trail of breadcrumbs, or drops of blood, the scent of cinnamon, how you would sprinkle it into my coffee like fresh ground snowflakes, i can’t take cinnamon in my coffee without being hungry for your laughter, i am hungry for your laughter but my mouth tastes like the slow dissolved of the last i love you that refuse to leave it. See I only doused myself in gasoline when you handed me that match because I was tired of being a metaphor. There in the dancing around, dancing through dancing on the spot where I buried my expectations and the wanting of it all. Explaining my depression to my mother: a conversation / Mom, my depression is a shapeshifter / One day it's as small as a firefly in the palm of a bear / The next it's the bear It was by little sugar creak in the warm Kentucky breeze that we stood off unfolding in silence, in silence it’s impossible to tell what the other person is thinking without looking them in the eyes, and you would not look me in the eyes, so by little sugar creak i let the warm breeze reach you in place of my origami hands, and since i have been practicing forgetting, i’ve kissed the sky more times than i ever kissed you, i inhale purple haze in attempts to smoke out the correlation between you and the scent of cinnamon, i drink as if i’m trying to save the world from drowning, to get my memories so drunk they might forget themselves by morning, but the trauma of daydreaming, the curse of muscle memory, my body keeps your secrets, how do i teach my mouth to shake out the reflection of your etch-a-sketch smile?, my wrist to forget the arches and curves of your name?

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