night in two parts

Having context, having read a lot of your work, I immediately put this in the category of your (post) war poetry. I don't know if that's right or wrong. I do know that within that context I find added poignancy here.

 "memory's plain paper." There's something wonderful about that, because the worst memories do seem to be forthright, "plain as the nose on yer face" and such though we could wish away that they weren't.

I get thrown off a bit in the last two lines; I'm not sure why.