Look, here's a shoe with a hole in its sole,
A wingtip I wore when I'd go visit people
To purchase my mutual funds. None
Of them did. I wasn't a salesman. Here
Is a light for a car I once owned, and
A coffeepot that doesn't work anymore.
Here is an axe with a handle that's broken,
A rusty old saw blade, a stack of cassettes,
Though I don't have a player, and clothes
Which no longer fit me or suit me. My
House is a vessel half filled with detritus.
Why am I keeping these things?

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 25 times
Written on 2021-03-26 at 20:52

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