Traces

Photo by Ron Lach from Pexels.

Carly Ungerer

When I think of the friends I lost 

over the course of years,

I like to think of way I shaped them,

Just a little bit.

There’s one person I taught righty-tighty lefty-loosey

and little memory tricks i’ve passed along.

Maybe years down the line they’ll remember me when tightening something.

And a few old friends still have my books

(and I have theirs).

Literary diaspora.

I hope they read them

(and maybe reread them).

I hope they feel like they still know me when they do.

I like to think of the traces left behind,

like glitter after a concert,

rather than the people I lost.

I hope to be more than a passing moment.

I hope to echo when I’m gone, 

to have shaped someone the same way they molded me.