AN AMULET FOR MY MISREMEMBERING

I just noticed: 
somewhere, I gained this irritating scar—
but where?
I can't remember.
For some reason 
when I try to remember,
and my thoughts are finally clutching
at the memory of a knick from a knife 
in the sink
or a blister from slinging
a five pound hammer,
the memory vanishes
Now long forgotten
into a glistening abyss of wonder
as if a mage had come and covered my mind 
with a black velvet curtain of oblivion. 

Sometimes,
I'd like to walk into the backroom and take one of her sewing needles,
thread it through the lip of my scars 
and pull through a beautifully dazzling 
crystal-beaded smiley face. 
To shimmer iridescent 
in this hellish heat.