“But memory has no memory…
It moves as it wants to move.”
—from “Transparencies” by Charles Wright         

I remember dark purple hollyhocks,
tall stalks of corn. Fried chicken in a basket.
Watermelon juice sliding down our sleeves.

Some Sundays we would drive down to the river.
You remember mosquitoes and our father’s temper.
I remember his smile.

Perhaps it’s true that memory has no memory,
just flashes of old snapshots, moving,
like sunlight through trees.

Judith Waller Carroll’s poetry has been featured on Verse Daily, read on The Writer’s Almanac, published in numerous journals and anthologies, and nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Her latest collection is Ordinary Splendor (MoonPath Press, 2022). A Montana native, she now lives in Oregon.