Another Priceless Artifact
Mary Winters
gone: vase you bought when you were
single; cheap vase from a
Chinese import store, but a lot of
bang for the buck, you thought.
Shoved it over with the cupboard door,
you crouching down to put it away after
dumping dusty, pricking Valentine’s Day
roses -- you don’t save the
petals anymore because of
family’s sneezes, itchy noses.
Something else new: your two
recycling bins in the kitchen.
Wizened roses -- twelve red from
husband, twelve white from
virgin son go in “Other Garbage,” not
“Metal/Plastic/Glass” where the
vase shards went. Where so
much is found out: kitchen middens.
What won’t show, but you
stored it away, archaeologist of the
heart: your husband smiled
gentle when you broke the vase --
knew it from your courtship --
just said, “My darling, do you
have your shoes on --
please don’t cut your feet.”
