Tuesday, January 22, 2013


I am reminded by your gifts
of Rumpleteaser
a tabby cat
with a black heart on her pink nose
whose tail was unfortunately trimmed
in a gruesome coincidence
of wind and door.
The stump
was too long for a manx
and too short for balance.
She thumped it like a club
when pleased.

Teaser brought us offerings.
Left them respectfully
on bathmat altars
or even –
most memorably –
in the tub.
That one was
abruptly discovered
(and consequently flung)
by toes ready for a shower.

Your treasures are arguably
more useful
or at least acceptable.
I see what drew your eye to:
The elaborate stoppered jars
full of spices long since turned to sand.
The stack of rusted muffin tins.
The cart full of books dismissed
by the library ages ago.
The long knife that cut hundreds of pizzas
before the restaurant closed.
Still, they are the detritus
of someone else's pawed-through life.

Our garage is full of
these leftovers.
I appreciate the sentiment but,
what use have I
for twenty-four inches of
dull blade?

1 comment:

  1. How perfectly wry! Heh-heh.

    There are, indeed, several ways to view the finds o of a "collector." I'm entranced by your descriptions of them.