Keep only those things that speak to your heart
My dreams are carefully folded
like clothing, like sheets, like origami.
I stuff them into a birdcage.
They protest, resign, comply.
I lock the cage. Place it
in a cardboard box.
Fold the lid in on itself.
Free to a good home.
Free to any home.
Free.
I put the box on the curb in the sun.
Inside, it heats up. Stifling.
Inside, I twist in on myself.
My dreams wilt, wither, melt.
Spread across the base.
Pool in the corners.
Soak into the cardboard.
I am wide-eyed at the window
as the box is picked up by someone
in a pick-up who doesn’t even bother
to look inside. The box is light.
And heavy.
My dreams drive off down the street.
They protest, resign, comply.
Turn the corner.
Something new flutters.
first appeared in Star 82 Review, 2021