Cierra Lowe-Price is a poet and half-assed artist living in St. Louis, Missouri. She has a bachelor’s degree in philosophy from Webster University, and is currently in school for nursing and working as a PCT in a local hospital. She self-published her first full-length collection of poetry and prose, The Horse and the Water in 2016, and is currently working on her second. Cierra enjoys unnecessary declarations of affection, changing lanes in intersections, and antiquated TV dramas. She has previously appeared in Bad Jacket and Bellerive. Find out more on her website, www.cierralovesyou.com, where she also has a blog.
Memory is the enemy.
Memory is a persistent beggar with an opiate dependency
and cigarette holes in the upholstery.
Memory is a slippery slope and a jammed clutch,
always trying to drag you back to a place
that was once home.
Memory is a lonesome god.
Memory is a false bottom, a trap door,
a trick candle that embarrasses you
every year on your birthday.
Memory is a neon sign you can see
from every highway you’ve ever driven.
Memory is the rabid dog outside your work.
Memory is a wayward soothsayer.
Memory is a casket with a peephole.
Memory is a clock that weeps.
Memory is a self-loathing prophecy with cracked lips,
begging for another pull
of the past—and her dizzy Oracle,
dagger pressed against my breast,
demanding recompense for every tomorrow
I thought I’d never see.