A Year in Reflection

The end of 2015 is the

emptying of a handbag, worn down

with wear over the past year, faux leather

strap cracking into fractals of time. In it,

what do we find?


Crumpled paper containing

smudged numbers forming lips on

the other end of the phone,

lips that form names I once scratched into backs

and whispered under hot breath.


Leaves with caked on mud from a rainy overnight-

sat under the large tent, a vivid memory of an

apology for saying “fuck” in front of a

group of twelve year old boys.


Several condom wrappers with dried red

lipstick on seams where I tore the

package open with impatient teeth.


Mechanical pencils with erasers that look

like chewed up dog toys and a sketch book

filled with postures and half finished faces-

erased gazes.


Guitar picks stowed in crevices that hide

the words to songs I haven’t set to

melodies I haven’t created yet.


Breath mints and chapstick and

a small diary containing calorie counts

of roasted peanuts. A tube of fruity lip gloss.


A small vial containing a perfume that

perfectly mimics her scent. A few loose

pieces of gum that taste like him.


A small wallet containing ticket stubs

and a copy of the WMATA bus schedule.


A business flyer with some advice about

biking around D.C. scribbled on the back

with an apology regarding legibility.


Some lint, dust, and a scattering of

orphaned letters of words that

never came to fruition when I sat

down to write.


A note scribbled on the back

of a bank receipt;

“Next year I’ll do better.”


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