Two syllables
summing up the hole in me.
Fleece pretense
thrown over my shoulders
much too heavy, much too
warm.
A flashlight,
blindfold,
a shell I found in Korea, nowhere
near the sea.
A hatred
of all things solid,
sturdy like wood.
A Mason jar of river water
stolen from her belly
April 15th, 1996.
—————-
Inspired by Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried.
What about you? What do you carry? Feel free to be poetic or literal. I like both.