First Memory
by Steve Barichko
First Memory
the oxheart as a human heart but bigger
as a clenched fist
as a rare tomato
the girl working the register does not know
has never seen
has not heard or eaten
just like this you try again
i am with your other hand
as a clenched fist
like my heart but bigger
shakes her head
at the house i am carried under trees
as a bedsheet
unfurled in its own shade
i am in your gold watch
in your watery tattoo
for our picture
but a car has hit the dog
so i have been sprawled out
on the red rug
woken by the ceiling fan
i am picked up
as though the crying smell
shoveling in the dirt
is not mine
Steve Barichko
Steve Barichko is a writer from Terryville, CT. His work has most recently appeared in Main Street Rag, fields magazine, and causeway lit. He is working on a forthcoming chapbook, Apocrypha. He lives in Terryville with his wife and daughter.