and the sterling silver tongue
currently weaving a nest
to keep her plastic eggs safe and warm
on the highest branch
of the oak tree growing crooked
through the attic of my mind
nearby, a silver cross on a silver chain
with a tiny garnet in the center
carried thoughtfully from some place
south of Mexico, an island maybe,
lies tangled in a dusty drawer
with a heart-shaped locket
from a forgotten Valentine
to the left, a cat with gray striped fur
and granny smith eyes
half-asleep, tail dragging,
making a bed out of a box
filled with old hats and wigs
which are now too covered in hair
for me to ever think of salvaging
scattered stacks of white scaly bodies
some partially decomposed
and stinking to high heaven
some still flopping
mouths opening and closing
as if trying to ask for help
or for just one last taste of water
in the back, the day you took me to the movies
plays on a projector screen
I can see us sitting in the last row
swirls of color lighting up the screen
it hurts my eyes to watch
so I rest my head on your shoulder
and you tell me it's okay
on the other side, the skull of a little bird
quite possibly a sparrow or crow
with a bit of black ribbon
threaded through the eye sockets
and a safety pin clasp
is the only item in the jewelry box
perched on the too-small shelf
next to an entire ashtray full to spilling
with tiny dark hairs pulled
from my brows and lashes at 3 AM
when I could not sleep
or force myself to stop
thinking of the girl with the heart
I could've sworn was solid gold
in the very back of my mind
buried beneath boxes
filled with mood swings and mean things
in a tiny heart-shaped tin
where I once kept sins
I now hide the little bit of love
I have leftover from us
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