expired linguine pasta, cardboard debris, shredded drawings of myself done by others, one visit to my grandmother’s worth of peanut shells, all the fur my two rabbits have pulled from themselves and another in the last year, the peel of the lemon Joan ate like an apple in a demonstration of her tolerance for bitterness, the fur collar removed from an inherited coat that I otherwise could not bear to wear, a sweater that fits like hell, the majesty palm I couldn’t save, Kenneth’s timothy hay reject pile, a suede ribbon removed from a bespoke hat, saliva, the recurring grocery list I no longer have to refer to, 2020
bird nests yielded from the materials of my life.
The difference between things found and things kept.