fingerprints and stains

the most sorry I feel for my plate with a shepherdess
she cries after the lost black little sheep
stepping in her scarlet boots with bowed laces
with her crooked staff like white and red lollipop

those were things like an out-of-date passport
the mark left by grandma’s doily on the night table
the unfinished game in father’s pocket chess set
things handled by people with whom I used the same serving spoons
until they were taken away over the chairs

I would climb down from the attic with old things
I would open a book with fables in a new revised edition
because I have a flock of memories running through my fingers
I get up the courage to dial 911 then I mingle the figures purposely
today is my lucky day

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Categories: My poems in 2016, Uncategorized | Tags: | Leave a comment

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