worldly goods

Photo by RASJacobson, 2012

• • •

The first time I died

was in the hands

of a good friend.


I’d been bragging

about my new car, slick

and black as blood


while she stood tall

as redwood, a queen

in an apron, preparing


tea. Setting down the silver

kettle, she took my hand

to her cheek, soft as peaches


and like a school-girl cried,

My dear child,

Don’t you know

every toy


in the end.

• • •

Ever have someone tell you something simple that positively rocked your world? What was it?

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