Sitting half standing proud and living some dead
atop the shelf melting into a laminate top dresser
the accolades of an age
once known and now thrown
over the shoulder
///
glance,
Pillar of Salt
right
forward
the next
one..
///
this one
isn’t good enough
unless it’s painted
gold
and covered in
Stars
///
ball of clay
rolled in my hand
crushed and scattered
on the
vacant lot (ash above Sower’s sown seed)
///
I gave that trophy to Thomas
considering it of no significance
having no idea
what I really wanted
