Magpie Tales: Remnants

Still Life, 1670, detail by Jean François de Le Motte

They will find it under the end of the bed,

covered in dust, once we are gone from this earth ---

a box, painted blue & red, my name penned

atop in black, she created when we were dating

Prying open the lid, they’ll find stacks

of correspondence, post-it notes, receipts with

scribble on the back, tickets to memory,

all the letters & cards I ever left laying or sent

Their rubber bands snapping in stiffness, spill

old stamps with post marks from the year we spent

apart, the last before ---

     Just the other day, I explained

     how when she walked through the door,

     her white dress turned the tap on the faucet,

     twin streams guttering in the corners

     of my up turned lips

And while they may receive little

in the way of inheritance, as they unfold crinkling

pages and scan the words, they will understand

waking on cold mornings to naught, yet the taste

of mana prepared by God’s own hands---

Written for Magpie Tales