Is there a purpose in forgetting?

12.55

My fork is raised, and
My eyes are feasting on a
Steaming chicken pie

The fork fails to touch
Even the exterior skin of
The golden pastry

A silent alarm
Sounds in my head, I see
Seventy pupils

Pushing and shoving
Peering through a window a
Hundred yards away

Waiting for me

Waiting for me to rattle some keys

A miracle. God,
Secular humanism
Notwithstanding, has

Fished out a large crowd
Away from football, ‘seconds’
Not enough girl chat

To the Thursday Club
A Christian Union
Stripped of tradition

12.56

Like the woman and
Her coins I tear around
Searching for the keys

12.59

The key turns the lock
And the door opens wide, no
One is the wiser

Privately I am
Beside myself with horror
And excessive joy

1.00

God did not forget -
His selectively robust
Memory, forgot

My frail frame and
Sluiced all my iniquities
Forever downstream

Our lapses - signs of
God maybe? Marinading
Us in the divine