What do you hold on to?
to possess and label MINE?
this stuff I shuffle
room to room
I’d like to peel them all off -layer by layer- see them lift up
and float back to their source, my trunk, a store, a shelf,
stuffy crate, rusty boxcar, sewing machine, threads
careening, a farm, a branch, molecules of cotton…
Exhalation -into a crowded space, all these collections
arranged by room
Pushing at the edges of empty space
All Elbows and feet Kicking
and looking for my “Sound of Music” across an open sky.