A Poem About Nothing

 A Poem About Nothing

Lost my memory somewhere.

Forgot where I put it.

That’s where all my metaphors reside.

How can I write poetry without them?

Metaphors compare something to something else.

But my memory has lost  those somethings.

How about this: nothing is an empty cup?

But, wait a second, there’s air in that cup so it’s not empty.

Really then, nothing is emptiness, the void.

There is nothing quite like it.

If it exists at all, it’s only in outer space.

Maybe that’s why they call someone who has memory problems “spacey.”

And, maybe, that’s where they’ll find my memory.