I keep you in a box, you know
But you needn’t feel a burden
I box up a lot of things
Things I can’t throw out
Not yet
But when I have more time to think
Or when the meanings fade
I will then
I’m sure
Here’s a box with stacks of magazines
Old ticket stubs and decorations
Another with clippings from the local paper
And badly photocopied photographs
Paper monuments, mostly
Not the kind of treasures
Pirates bury in a chest
And protect with deadly traps
But not so fast!
These have traps in them also
The quiet, hidden kind
That tempt you with a shiny word
And, triggered by a picture
They hang you by a memory
You’ve snared me more than once, in fact
Because you’re in there somewhere
In a box
In several boxes
In a thousand pieces
Scattered like confetti
On an empty gym floor
I could put them back together
Like a puzzle, if I tried
Some pieces might be missing
Misplaced
Or lost
Or maybe I never had them
Or maybe it’s a tricky puzzle
Where some pieces don’t exist
In the first place
The kind of puzzle
You can never really solve
A broken puzzle
Are you a broken puzzle
Made more beautiful
By badly fit and missing pieces
Filled in with gold?
Or just a broken puzzle?
These boxes don’t take up much space
And they’re not hurting anyone
As long as they stay closed and safe
So
I think I’ll leave them
In the attic
Another year or two, at least
I think that the dust makes them softer
