Lost Items

Forced unmelting, wet:
a take down washed –
The sledding hill defeated, dashed
by flood demeanor streaming, breached
gone progress, cold archival snow:
Un-arctic, un-projected fall
the snow bank, shrinks to water and
defeated stream begins to flow.

In gray pooled cess are strewn the lost:
discarded rainbow remnants:
            black the buttons, slipped the socks
            of red beside the blue, the striped and green of hats unstuck,
            the cardboard squares of liquids drained,
            one million green and silver lights:
            the candy wrapper covers left, dots
            of green of brilliant gleam – in sunlight vibrant shining as one million silver pimples,
            gifts with guts consumed, digested,
            gone, discarded to the snow scape space:
            The spongy mass distorted, left abandoned to its duty so
            the soil glove absorbs it, takes the melt and holds it deep,
            consuming wet provisions so the items left are offered,
            strewn each remnant memory waiting, left
            awaiting claims of owners,
            made the orphans of the snow.

J. W. Mark is a poet living in Akron and has been published in The Ampersand Review and The Midwest Literary Magazine.

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