A Place for You
In the home goods section of TJ Maxx
I waste time looking at fake succulents,
bending their sticky but pretty leaves
in all directions. Across the aisle, rows
of decorative glass jars line the shelves.
A large one stands out, flowers painted
at its bottom shine pink in the fluorescent
light. As I hold it, kids and their moms
push red carts around me, employees
hurry by with loops full of shrill keys.
I determine that, yes, all I have left of you
will fit in this glass jar—pictures of you
at the piano, the plastic Pokémon won
in a bet, your charcoal drawings if I fold
them. The woman working the counter
compliments my choice as she wraps it
in pale, crinkling paper—this’d be great
for a candle, it really catches the light.
Outside, the sun’s been smeared with
silver clouds. I walk home underneath
its haze, crying so hard I think my eyes
will burst and fall like rain at my feet.