Stacked like bricks
row, row, row, row
where did I put my
heart, my knowledge,
my dignity? did I pack
it up with the rest of my
house, into cardboard
boxes: brown, or beige,
with vodka or beer brands
stamped across their
backs? All the empty
boxes were picked up at
the liquor store on a dull
tuesday afternoon after
the delivery truck came in.
Well now my heart, my
knowledge, my dignity,
are simply lost, since
the movers were careless
and broke a few things
along the way, and all of
the best parts of me were
tossed in the corners into
piles of dust, in the trash can,
swept beneath the rug.
At least my body
still remains.
