Junkyard Haves
A chorus of boxes hums tonelessly on high rafters
where unwieldy boxed and stocked memory realms
squirm under drowsy dust just beyond my sight’s reach.
On my journey, family, romantic loves, places
and friends have deeply dipped me twisted
then spun in bleary pieced feeling conditions
that time tossed dark-shelved from my vision.
But around does come moments of poignant grabs
that hoist me thru the dust to see a memory touch
and as I sit or lie with it, it seeps my depths inside of it.
October 30, 2019
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