junk

dig deep into the junk drawer

find the answers

reach to the back

dust embedded under finger nails

catch a finger on an open pin

leave a drop of blood

schmeared across the wooden bottom

feel for the empty ring box

next to the pile of unsewn patches

intended for a long-gone pint-sized jeans jacket 

scooch past the tiny notebook of 

now meaningless secrets 

seeking a small packet 

bound with a plastic pendent of nothingness

there but now not

perhaps never there

one of those vanished things

existing only in stories and memories 

© Karen Casady 2021