Mnemonic by Marjorie Mir

photo by Dori Schweier



“Fall back,” we tell ourselves,
beginning the trek toward early dark,
and we do, still do,
coming from cold streets
into lamplight,
cupping a mug in both hands;
limits, the comfort of habit,
these are not yet taken from us,
nor a darkness whose face is familial,
winter that closes us in.

Marjorie Mir