remembered

I want to be remembered
like the curtain ring,
and the dust cloth,
the window sill,
and the light switch,
just there somewhere
where I ought to be,

like the buttonhole
in its exactness,
the soft pillow
under a tired head,
the nostrils always open,
the eyelashes
curled up in a perfect line,
invisible to a busy world,

I want to be remembered
not because
the world can't do without me,
but so I can remember
what I am supposed to do and be.