My first memory / Veronica Soria Martinez

My first memory

Is of my old living room

In a town where I no longer live

My brother sitting at the table

Excited to watch Ulysses 31

And complaining about me being obnoxious

Me under the table

Making noise with a plastic potty

In my hand

But shortly after

I have this other memory

I was playing on the couch

Head down

Legs up

And it brought a rush of blood

To my head

And a dry sensation

To my nose

And I remember thinking

That must be what death 

Smells like

And that brings me to a place

That I have visited many times after

And all those times bring me to one another

Like a hashtag.

There is this place 

That proves

For me

That time is circular

And this eternal continous present

Is illusory

And past does exist

And the future is uncertain

And it kind of brings relief

Because this eternal continous present

Can be a kind of a pain.