Our eyes tell us,
to remember
the strangest things,
like a religious wastebasket,
tucked into the arms
of a failing church.
We never see
the garishly painted thing
in the tiny sanctuary's
northeast wing,
until we bring it forth
in our mind
out of a necessity
to throw away
a scrap of something
forgotten.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 12:09 AM UTC
Our eyes tell us,
to remember
the strangest things,
like a religious wastebasket,
tucked into the arms
of a failing church.
We never see
the garishly painted thing
in the tiny sanctuary's
northeast wing,
until we bring it forth
in our mind
out of a necessity
to throw away
a scrap of something
forgotten.