Junk Drawer

The skeleton key reaches back

deeper than childhood. it once unlocked

memories to come: the grist and

rhyme of sacred words recited 

largely by rote on grandmother's 

ample lap, the vast yard where

cousins played then dutifully

heeded the dinner bell, the drawer

of old keys, rubber bands, talcum,

the rosary from Rome wearied

by Hail Mary's through the war and

then the years of change. A vial of

holy water dabbed as perfume

when making the sign of the cross.

A deck of cards and the leather

dice cup. The dice themselves are cast

in perfect calculus. There are

pieces of life that fit nowhere else.

—Martin A. Bartels