Leigh Sugar

Selling the Childhood Home

Though more accurate would be behind the house,
‍I would call it my backyard, the river –
what I will most miss.

And the blackberry tangles alongside the road,
taunting ripeness for that one week in July
before disappearing for another year.

None of this is lost, but nothing’s right here.
It is increasingly apparent that right here
‍is a prerequisite for care.

Aphantasia is where you can’t picture a thing
when you close your eyes and are prompted
to picture it. See star. See apple. See mother’s

hands. How do I know if I can picture a thing
if what happens in my mind, when prompted
to do so, is all I’ve ever known?

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