My Skivvies

Lay like a discarded Dear John letter from an x-con determined to start a new life,

a squashed white rabbit on a Carolina backroad rolled by a speeding Buick,

a page torn from the diary of a lonely depressive wishing to remain anonymous,

a seagull blown so far off course that it holds no hope of returning to the sea,

an envelope stamped with the lingering smells that identify a day’s hard work,

a damp map of the moon flaccid as beach litter after a dense morning fog,

a snow drift sullied by a lost dog who’ll trace his way home by a series of leaks,

an albino snake skin shed like a bridal veil at the foot of an empty marriage bed,

a used handkerchief dropped by a cleric on his way to inspire a congregation,

an abandoned white lily kicked to the curb by mourners at a funeral procession,

the love letter of a pained man who felt he should have said these things instead.

~from Poems I Mustn’t Show Others