Inventory, Day 2, Leftovers

In the bedroom:

green star, candle holder, from an English friend, five-pointed, a witch, what of it, not a conversation to have with just anyone, solstice coming, winter’s throes of passion, wind and rain beat the door down

heavy glass, how I like it, on the shelf behind my bed, leaden weight, a small sip of jasmine green tea, expensive kind, four dollars a bottle, or less savvy, Diet Dr. Pepper, swig of orange juice left behind

bottle on a bright orange string, dragonflies painted on the face, can’t miss or lose it, hanging on the wall, inside amethyst beads, means protection, means haven, magic’s a state of the mind, in the body

wrought iron mirror, creamy face, like you thought you might have, Victorian, oh you were that kind of girl, don’t deny, rankles but your body still is Venus, not dancing with stars on Hollywood Boulevard

plates, carnival glass, thrift finds, round raised markings spaced along the edge, pale green, blue, gold, hold my keys, watch, paperclip, copy card, nothing at all, were sitting in a cabinet, now put to practice

body of a woman, any woman, green and pink and white swirled down the stomach, oval, a small ritual, like Hebrew women baking bread, beside them a doll, queen of heaven, protects, kind clay

perfume bottle, hummingbird top, blitz of white and cobalt, translucent bird, on a shelf with others, lazy sky over my house, the light that could be brought by a color, turned inward on a container, light itself

watch face, box with a mirror on top, beads on a brass necklace, energy saver bulb, under water, going under, something in the way she moves, just a face, nothing else, daughter, sister, do not forget her

closet doors are mirrors, not ideal, do not like to look inside, not while the body moves in that direction, not while I am underneath, not while everything in this small room inside a small trailer listens