Winter 2009–2010

Letter to an Unremembered Companion

The shape of your face, the cut of your hair

Christine Wertheim

| don’t remember the shape of your face | don’t remember the cut of your hair | don’t remember the look in your eyes | don’t remember if you’re dark or fair | don’t remember your body’s weight | don’t remember if we matched in size | don’t remember if you’re tall or short | don’t remember you being there | don’t remember your hands or feet | don’t remember your ears and nose | don’t remember your arms or legs | don’t remember if you stood or posed | don’t remember your teeth and mouth | don’t remember the smell of your breath | don’t remember the tone of your skin | don’t remember if U ever blushed | don’t remember the top of your head | don’t remember your fingers or toes| don’t remember your chin and brow | don’t remember U anyhow | don’t remember the arc of your smile | don’t remember the faces you made | don’t remember whether you cried | don’t remember if you were well bred | don’t remember your character type | don’t remember whether U lied | don’t remember you angry or sad | don’t remember any words you said | don’t remember the clothes you wore | don’t remember if your feet were shod | don’t remember at all your toys | don’t remember if you had pets | don’t remember the sound of your voice | don’t remember the language you spoke | don’t remember your parents’ creed | don’t remember if it involved God | don’t remember the places we played | don’t remember the games we shared | don’t remember our boyhood romps | don’t remember that I ever cared | don’t remember your mother’s cooking | don’t remember your father’s stare | don’t remember your family home | don’t remember although | was there | don’t remember what you liked | don’t remember how you walked | don’t remember if we argued | don’t remember that we talked | don’t remember if we held hands | don’t remember the warmth of our bond | don’t remember the friendly air | don’t remember of U being fond | don’t remember your body near me | don’t remember the feeling of joy | don’t remember our friendship flowering | don’t remember U my boy | don’t remember wanting to see U | don’t remember being sad when U left | don’t remember awaiting your visits | don’t remember feeling bereft | don’t remember our first union | don’t remember when we last met | don’t remember thinking about U | don’t remember why I forget | don’t remember the pain of parting | don’t remember if tears we shed | don’t remember missing U | don’t remember your memory’s dead | don’t remember the days U speak of | don’t remember the photos U send | don’t remember our time together | don’t remember being your friend | don’t remember your presence near me | don’t remember tho’ the pictures I see | don’t remember you’re still a blank | don’t remember but | recognize me | don’t remember my visions of U | don’t remember your bottom or top | don’t remember your left or right | don’t remember U in my sight | don’t remember your face eludes me | don’t remember your gestures are gone | don’t remember your character’s faded | don’t remember your image has worn | don’t remember your age or name | don’t remember my memory’s spent | don’t remember a thing about U | don’t remember not a single event | don’t remember my mind is slipping | don’t remember my heart’s grown old | don’t remember remembrance fails me | don’t remember can | be so cold? | don’t remember what was once so dear | don’t remember | really forget | don’t remember | can’t recall U | don’t remember at least not yet | don’t remember | can’t conceive it | don’t remember | deeply regret | don’t remember |’m sad to say | don’t remember. Can you forget? | don’t remember | can’t conceive it | don’t remember | deeply regret | don’t remember |’m sad to say | don’t remember. Can you forget? 



This contribution is part of a portfolio of responses to Speak Not, Memory by Sina Najafi. See the other responses below.

Revolution in Mind by Albert Mobilio
Artist Project / My K.A.P. Friends by Sabrina Gschwandtner
(Face)book of the Dead by Mary Dery
On the Misrecognition of Friends by D. Graham Burnett
Trust Me, I’ve Never Done This Before by Richard Fleming
Project For the Separation of Friends by Shelley Jackson

Christine Wertheim is a Los Angeles–based poet and critic, and chair of the MFA Writing Program at the California Institute of the Arts. Her books include +|’me’S-pace (Les Figues Press, 2007), Feminaissance (Les Figues Press, 2010), and The /n/oulipian Analects, co-edited with Matias Viegener (Les Figues Press, 2007).

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