Written in response to this week’s Poetry 101
Rehab hosted by Andy Townend.
I used to have files on
everyone. Things I knew
about them and theirs.
What they wanted…and who.
I have files of photographs
reaching back into the 50s.
Interesting pairings, mix or match
them up. Sort them, straighten them out.
I still have files about
writing and my published work.
I have, too, files of poetry and art,
unpublished, by people I no longer know.
I can’t send them out for shredding.
There’s too much to shred, myself.
I can’t leave them behind. Can’t
be sure they’ll just be burned or buried.
Papers blowing in a landfill.
Up against the fences, climbing
up the mesh, in the air at last
with names and dates and places.
Will I live long enough that
all those files won’t matter
“File Boxes. Copyright © 2016-02-24, by Lizl Bennefeld.
All rights reserved.