Oblivio, by Artie Moffa
Oblivio
The doctors who have made senility
Their subject say we pave a neural path
Anew when we recall a memory.
If this and genes are true, the awful wrath
Of plaques and proteins gathers in the gloam
And bides its time. Someday, should doctors care
To analyze my brain, they will see where
You kissed me in my youth and founded Rome.
When other memories are tattered cloths,
I’ll fold and keep the flag of that first kiss,
Defend it from old age as Visigoths
Beseige my brain. All pathways lead to this.
Physicians of my final days, note well:
I kissed her on the Seventh Hill.
Rome fell.
