Undo

Undo

I remember the films,
the atomic ones
run in reverse,

where the bursting houses
are sucked backwards
to their intact frames,

and people are stirring
their coffee and cream
the proper way,

watching the light streak
down their panes.

Things so disturbing
I can only remember
the memory rewinds.

Further back,
an SUV and a minivan
un-collide.

Their vehicle 
slows down
and safely passes.
The dead in the van
return to life
and just 
go on by.

My mother and father unbow,
their blood on my brother and sister
disappears.

Five are alive 
instead of 
four dead—
me the survivor.

They will pass 
into a future 
all their own,
not leaving me 
to live a life 
in reverse—

disconnected,
filled with 
blame and regret.

“Come to me, “
I will say to them.

Let me unknow
the accusations.
unwrite the 
grief letters
to their
pure white—

reverse this
unintelligible world.

Let my soul 
become a 
friend to myself
again

until 
day by day
the light 
disengages
from the smoke

and everything
becoming 
lighter and lighter

everything reassembling itself.