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.