Extracting memories^[1]

 

Speak to me in layered tongues of bitten snow, slow

molars carved with frost collected in the valleys between your teeth. The scientist bores a core—

plucks the long memory from each glacier—this meter holds your first bicycle ride, this

 

a bridal veil of volcanic ash from Pompeii, six cylinders of centuries trespass

the sterile air—blink at the unforgiving sun. From the dentist chair, you look

up at the light and this persistent body shrinks—cracked with age

and use. Our indestructible jaws crumble with heat, losing

 

enameled eons to inaction, forgetting to stitch our gums

with floss. It’s far too late to mend our habits

now: best to preserve what we can. Each

 

line, a thought pulled out of context—

precious archive of time before tales.

 

We transcribe the answers to

our final test without

any chance of

knowing the

questions.

^[1] Ice cores and climate change – British Antarctic Survey