A Punctuated Echo

A memory knocked on my door last night

Wearing low-slung quotes and a question mark

It felt uneasy, like something not quite

Settled, uncomfortable in the dark

It was draped in foggy parenthesis

Startling colons and percentages too

It seemed excited and so very pleased

And expected me to let it through

It stung my eyes with some old quotations

From the many things I should not have said

And had a stubborn and eternal patience

But I just wanted to go back to bed

You can’t do battle with your past it seems

But it can ruthlessly upset your dreams