Do not gather dust

by amy sharp


I'm collecting you like the secrets I stuff inside of my mouth. I'm finding you. Like old keys. Bits of sea glass. Tin cases. The rusty Zippo lighter from a dead man. The letter I never sent. The one you did send. Paper postcards. Pills. Dead money. Photographs. Take me in your car across a wild, green horizon. Push me down. Put your hand in my mouth and pull out all the words.