by Carl Josehart

A clay bowl
fired by the intensity of her gaze
filled with the abundance of her caring

A handkerchief
stained from tears shed during many difficult goodbyes

A paperweight
black as night with filigree of silver and gold
given to me for no reason at all

Brass candlesticks
wax cleaving to their sides
leftovers from quiet eves
dinner with friends
romantic nights

A picture
of parents that were mine
could have been mine
should have been mine
on the mantle

Pieces of my past
testimonies to my life
gingerly packed and moved
where I go
set down like roots
nourish me
and tell me
I’m home

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