The box labeled
parental sentimentalities
is small
and the things in it
were not carefully vetted

They were just what got caught
at moments when the momentum
of moving on
flagged a little
and these were dropped like sediment
from the slower flow

Or when a stick snags something
near the river’s bank
and other things, arrested, gather behind it

Somehow I couldn’t throw out
the paper cut out figure smiling benignly,
curling at the edges
or the fimo depiction
of a sink with snow in it

Many years hence
I may look at them again.
For now, this box is ark
among the flags.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 21, 2017