Recollection

 

    — I remember a strange family had taken me into its arms, welcoming me “home,” a lost and important part of their life’s dream, they claimed, and when I heard those words instantly I developed fever — I remember red velvet wallpaper shaped with concentric circles which when focused upon seemed to spiral and thought this is a sign of my volition, my ability to move things, and this, I remember thinking, would grow stronger in the coming years I feared — I remember as a young boy wanting someone to take me inside from the wind — I remember on Ms. M.’s dress an embroidered map of Europe before the war where desire shared a border with Russia — I remember how I dared to cross my heart in secret when I was sure no one was looking — I remember the parakeet would fly away over the fields for weeks at a time, leaving me to my own thoughts, and then would return suddenly at night with new words that left me transfixed — I remember how vexed I was on the eve of our departure into the city — I remember kneeling on the floor, sucking at a cut on her fingertip — I remember the description of the bright interior archive was torn, the understory would remain unspoken — I remember the poets year after year praising the amaryllis — I remember red was the colour of circle, red was the colour of being looked at — I remember becoming entranced, my words began to dissolve with each repetition, each involuntary arm movement when I peered up the branches of the bare autumn and when I turned away — I remember at four being called an interruption — I remember the helicopter hovering, pivoting over the skyscraper in strong weather, someone unseen pulling up the rope ladder — I remember they put a tag with my name on it about my neck — I remember how she made me feel urgent and in the heart of the plaza — I remember something pregnant in me — I remember one day I began to suspect I was a minor character in my own story after years of believing I was in the lead — I remember how I didn’t want to be myself for a while or be by myself, for being me was lonely even when I pretended to be someone else — The last thing I remember was promising myself — A scrap of tinfoil placed in my mouth and I thought for a moment how it was like —