I am on a shelf.

I am in a jar
     many jars
     my heart and brain and stomach are stored
     apart like ancient Egyptian princes
     preserved for burial.
I can put my heart in one place,
     and bury my body in another.
I can split my consciousness into a thousand little tchotkes
     preserved in piles of papers
     and colorful leaves picked up on a breezy autumn day.
I am a jar of flour
    and a ceramic bowl of honey
    with a little wooden spoon to scoop me out.

In this little wooden farmhouse, the shelves are filled with memories.
Leave a piece of me on the shelf here;
    Tuck me in between photographs
    and baby teeth.
Let part of me rest in the peace of Polička.