Lost Boys

You are so skinny, you say,
because your body's fed on its memories.

You shout this though I am just next to you.

You, who memorized my first kiss,
cannot retrieve my name now.

Speeding into space, your sobs come
few and far between.

You cannot imagine yourself anymore --
eye color, hair, the extent of your bruises.

Are you the cup's hard rim, the pill
in your throat or the hand you clutch but cannot see?

You ask if I am afraid as I bring you to sleep.

1989 John Goss