Where All the Forgotten Go


I once dreamt that I visited the land of the Forgotten 

Where my old friends and lost memories live. 

I was not where I was supposed to be, that I knew, but 

I couldn’t find the sky that would bring me back. 

I looked up and I couldn’t really see-- 

My mother’s smile shone in my eyes, 

And pink clouds drifted overhead, the ones I thought I could eat,

With Canto buzzing nearby to the rhythm of the summer cicadas. 


I got this itch in my chest that maybe I had done this before

But I couldn’t remember the last time! 

Remember it! I must have climbed something or another 

Or perhaps it was the gray, carpeted stairs just around the corner

With that muddy stain that never went away, the one from the stormy day

When at last courage came and danced with me in the rain at Socrates Park-- 

But that was so long ago I couldn’t remember the last time. 

So I closed my eyes and felt a tea-egg steam on my face.

It filled my brain with something close to clarity, and just past the singing cicadas 

I could hear the ring of the Mimi Deli door. It whispered something to me

So softly that I couldn’t hear. Perhaps it whispered to remind me that

I knew I grew up there, the Forgotten was my home. 

And yet, it was all so unfamiliar-- 

I couldn’t remember the sting of VapoRub on my upper lip 

When my mother promised that it would help me breathe better at night. 

I couldn’t remember the winter breeze before the big performance 

When my piano teacher rubbed the goosebumps off my arms and hands.

I couldn’t remember the sunny afternoons 

When my best friend and I ate strawberries dipped in plum powder; 

I couldn’t remember my best friend. 

She lives in the Forgotten but I had to go back.

Back to never-the-same in a reality that I can’t quite get used to. 

Back to dead phones and aching necks and pins-and-needles in 

My lungs, my chest, that part of my head where migraines hurt the most.

I woke up and I felt that rush, dreadful and pulling at my heart, because 

My bones ached to remember. They ached but they couldn’t remember.

Sin Ng

edited: Sophie Tung