The Most Immiscible Dark

Memory’s mixtures refuse

To form a solution. Is

That what you intended when

You typed that the event is

Immiscible, Jackie Wang?

It seemed you might be meaning

That the past can’t be altered.

Immiscible’s a surprise

In that context. The event

Is done, and that’s a comfort,

If you’re not prone to regret,

But memory’s mutable

To the point of deceptive,

Even without a motive.

You know that. Every dreamer

Understands that dilemma,

However many believe,

En masse, the days are stable,

Should in some way stay that way,

And when they change must get worse.

Any time something changes,

Numbers of you grow alarmed.

Maybe it’s not those changes

But that sudden reminder

Of just how immiscible

Memory is with fresh facts.

Imagine if, after death,

You remembered bits of life

The way you remember dreams.

Mostly you don’t. Mostly dreams

Bloom and die and disappear,

And you don’t know you lived them,

But you keep rare lucid ones

Propped up in dioramas

And fixed in story vitrines,

Shelved in the mind’s museums.

Who will know the forgotten?

Who knows what waves closed over

Never to reveal again?

That’s the dark most compelling.