A poem

Treasure

Search your trash!
You missed the one thing
of true worth.

Where are your shells
And the bones of all
You have consumed.

What odds and ends
you have in there.
Surely they glow and glitter.

And there’s a rhythm
You can keep for life
In your swing and sway.

Why, the ancient ones
Built their Gods
From oysters and broken shanks.

They raised towns
On their dead
And planted lost lives.

Oh, yes, they had
Their keepers
Of their first long night.

And all were lost, all,
Not a name among
them remains.

With bones and beads,
With crabshells they raised a world.
Never forget they breathed.

In keeping with my previously suggested rummaging through that bottom desk drawer, here’s an unpublished (if you count chapbooks as publishing) poem from a couple of years ago on the very topic of rummaging through cast offs. Remember: read it out loud.