W. D. Snodgrass(b. 1926)
Mementos, 1
Sorting o u t letters and piles of my old
Canceled checks, old clippings, and yellow note cards
That meant something once, I happened to find
Your picture. That picture. I stopped there cold,
Like a m a n raking piles of dead leaves in his yard
W h o h a s turned up a severed hand.
Still, that first s e c o n d , I was glad: y o u stand
Just as y o u s t o o d — s h y , delicate, slender,
In that l o n g g o w n of green lace netting and daisies
That you wore to our first dance. The sight of you stunned
Us all. W e l l , our n e e d s were different, t he n ,
A n d our ideals c a m e easy.
T h e n t h r o u g h t h e war3 and t h o s e two l o n g years
Overseas, the J a p a n e s e dead in their shacks
A m o n g dishes, dolls, and lost shoes; I carried
This g l i m p s e of you, there, to c h o k e d o w n my fear,
Prove it h a d b e e n , that it m i g h t c o m e back.
T h a t was b e f o r e we got married.
— B e f o r e w e drained o u t o n e another's force
W i t h lies, self-denial, u n s p o k e n regret
A n d the sick eyes that blame; before the divorce
A n d the treachery. Say it: before we m e t . Still,
I put back your picture. S o m e d a y , in d u e course,
I will find that it's still there.