Oubliette.

 get busy

with the business of

forgetting

and burying

it's all stop signs

and shovelsful of dirt, 

sighing at reminders

turned over 

in the digging -

shiny enough to

make me pause, but

never enough to

write home about. 

after awhile maybe

the sound itself

is a routine -

a monotony, a litany

and a prayer

with dirt under my nails

and sweat down my neck:

forget. 

Forget. 

FORGET.