Write about an Object

It is a small ceramic cradle six inches long, three across , five tall.

Too small for a live baby. Too big for easy packing

and we were always packing. She came with me

everywhere. White with pink trim. Bundled in dirty shirts,

in yesterdays newspaper, in the bottom of plastic totes

and heavy baskets.

She is always cold to touch, cold as I hold her

to my cheek, nestled to my ear, you can hear her.

Even in the desert, even after the longest drive.

My grandmothers last creation, thrown for my birth.

A useless cradle which followed me like her voice,

a sound I can only imagine. Haunting, my packed life

my childhood travels

from the sun

to snow

to desert

to water

Landing on an island

I filled her finally

with my sisters baby hair clippings

dried yellow flowers,

beach glass, coins from distant travels

and finally lay her to rest.



2 thoughts on “Write about an Object

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