Day 931

The artifacts of loss
are stacked around you —
haphazardly, among the rubble.
A single shoe, no laces. Handle
of a pot. Handle of a tricycle.
A ragged sweater, cover
of a laptop, a phone
with a cracked screen, bits
of linoleum tile that must have lined
some light-filled kitchen,
to judge from the fading. Pieces
of lives, each resonant
with memories, each steeped
in something unspeakable.
What will you throw
into that mound? Your precious
books? Your grandmother’s
chair? The fragrances
of her cooking? Your child’s voice?