by allison ryder
lights wander in her pupils;
light bulbs spark a reaction-
shattered glass, the smell
of burnt rubber,
skid marks tarnish the pavement,
shambles of steel. the taste of
smoke fills her lungs, blood trickles
down her forehead.
what is your name?
what year is it?
do you know who this is?
no. no. no.
she left her life in that car.
eyes search rapidly
for something real, someone familiar.
nothing triggered a memory, nor a reality.
and then you walked in the door.
heartbeat; a little faster. recognition.
amnesia temporarily erases thoughts,
the mind, life as she knew it.
but no accident
can eradicate the heart.