Pill Box Mausoleum

She showed me a small

pill box with a glass top –

Look who is inside –

she gleamed

waiting for me to get

curious.

As I didn’t she opened

the glass top cover and

removed pink dried buds

of roses:

See who is inside!

I saw a face of a stranger

it’s you she said.

Aha and Tessa and Teddy

and also Francois.

Yes. She held it like a jewel.

See I keep your picture.

Indeed I replied.

She placed the rosebuds

back again.

Buried like in a private

mausoleum. I said.

Don’t say that. She said

and closed the glass lid.

I rose and entered my desk

to type my journal poems.

The following morn’ she

scolded me: I gave you

nice photographs of me

you never carry on you.

I recall I had them in my

briefcase

I never carry around

with me since I had been

prey to pickpockets twice

but to her I said nothing.

Fotos.sotoF

 

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry ’17.

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