When I say I’ll write, what do I mean?
What will I write about, and when?
Shall I write about my childhood stuffies,
filled with memories of love and family?
How about my coin collection,
categorically sorted by year and origin,
packaged in see-through holders
like priceless museum pieces?
Or maybe my figurines and crystals,
from Alberta to Morocco,
Japan, the Philippines, and beyond,
which whisper of mysteries from eons long gone?
These tchotchkes of mine,
what wondrous stories
could they reveal to you and to me,
if only they could speak?
30/30 Challenge Day 6 Prompt – “Tchotchkes” by Catherine Graham
(Tchotchkes – A Yiddish term, referring to items that are decorative souvenirs and trinkets.)
He says he’ll write. Sometimes he does with letters so spare
and spiny like cacti they sting the absence.
I wait like a child for more tchotchkes from other countries
where air floats cobalt blue or hot vermilion.
If I could trap his taste on my tongue, I’d keep it boxed
like a doll from Bogata.
All I have are hands with river etches that map his exotic locales,
and this rock where I outline a fossil of fish to carve his story.
Only my hand under water, the swan-tilt
of my wrist, a bangle from Arabia–
He’s always leaving me and telling me he’s coming back.
“Soon,” he says, pointing to the moon.
But when it’s full or empty?
He doesn’t answer. He says he’ll write.
Tyler DeWriter 