Things Discarded

dropping, fluttering like spent tissues like wasted dollars like shells, like peels, like skins like unsent lovenotes like empty cans on the floorboard like flicked butts rolling to the gutter like dreams from yesterday’s life swiped left, out of sight

things discarded shrugged off, time used up she stoops, examines collects them, each one a snowflake to her a gem, a treasure then in armfuls wagonloads heaping, these things discarded a mountain of marvel altar to impermanence

Vixen Lea is a mother to two small children and a number of animals, but first and foremost she is a human struggling to hang on to joy and presence. Poetry helps her remember who she was before juice boxes and laundry and playdates. Her writing can be found on her blog wakinguprazzledazzle.com.