I still have a box of old strange things. The menu from the diner I lived at in high school. The Samuel Adams bottle cap I saved from the night after Sam’s funeral. Still remember teasing him for being named Samuel Adams and being a stoner who didn’t drink beer. Still have Rachel’s last will and testament that she wrote a week after Brian Rippie died. Still have a strand of his hair and the kiddy tape called a “Tail of Two Sillies” that he had gotten for me but hadn’t given to me. His sister digging it out of his things after showing us the spot on the floor in the hallway downstairs where his heart had stopped beating. We listened to the Doors for hours in his bedroom, Rachel and Rippie’s Sister Helen, and me, all believing he could just maybe get up off that floor. But he never did. Six years later Rachel and Helen sit beside me in the courtroom as my ex-fiancé confesses to beating me. They don’t know how close they came to attending my funeral. (I saw the angel you know, it just wasn’t my time to go.) I do not have any souvenirs in the memory box for that. I have Brian’s strand of hair. A Samuel Adams bottle cap, a few other dead or lost friends, and Rachel Myers’ last will and testament. She left me a box of crayons and Brian, even though he’s dead.
Isabel Sylvan lives and writes along the Raritan Bay. Her poetry has appeared in numerous publications over the past twenty years. She is currently the editor of Poetry Breakfast, an online poetry journal. In 2012 she began producing an art collection featuring a mix of movie stills and her poetry. By merging images from stock footage with her poems, she has created a visually pleasing blend of poetry and photography. Her first widely published collection of poems, Songs In A Broken Minor Key is forthcoming and two additional collections are in the works. For additional information visit http://www.isabelsylvan.wix.com/poetry.