false harvest
the taste of Bramleys from our orchard—
tart enough to make eyes water,
staining fingers with windfall juice—
except we never had trees.
memories arrive pre-weathered,
like vintage clothes bought new,
trauma should leave holes,
not these crystalline scenes
flawless pixels.
i dream in binary now,
wake up with error messages
scrolling
behind my eyes, wondering
whose life
whose life
whose life
I'm remembering.
the truth unravels like bad code—
every memory a borrowed file,
copy-pasted into the soft tissue
of whatever
whoever
whatever
I am becoming
Louise Worthington is a Pushcart Prize Nominee whose work can be found in Reflex Fiction, Storgy, HWA Showcase and Boston Literary Magazine, among others. Her publications include Life Lines, a poetry volume; Stained Glass Lives, flash fiction and short stories; and the novel Distorted Days described by Kirkus Review as “a formidable work that defies narrative orthodoxy.”
