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Keepsakes

by Matthew Zangen

It's ours, mine;
given
stayed time,
kept posted,
held ghosts, grayed notes:
important, potable,
smellable.

That's us, me;
misgiving, trusting
part time ghosts,
taking
notes, remembrance

gone
ransom, stench
lost, folded crimes
crumpled, time
taking gifts, keeping
away, giving
everything, those
ghost stinks
and thought crimes,
they aren't yours, aren't mine.

12/04/2014

Posted on 12/04/2014
Copyright © 2019 Matthew Zangen

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by June Labyzon on 12/06/14 at 03:36 PM

Folded crimes...how easily we try to become one when we fall in love (if this is what this poem suggests). We forget that one is one and one plus one makes two not one. Thanks for the read

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