David O'Meara: "Days"

The question that launches David O'Meara's poem "Days" turns on how we move through time and what we carry with us, as knowledge and memory of place, event and identity. "Something" we've forgotten nags when we go out, like a black box signalling the location of wreckage. That familiar discomfort: what did we leave behind? Not just what did we forget to bring, but what is it, there, that we're putting at a distance?