often return to what objects can carry in my writing. An old suitcase can hold memories of roads travelled. A keyring can carry an entire relationship in its tiny surface.
Recently, I was very happy to see my poem “Inventory” published in the inaugural issue of Aphrodite Magazine.
Inventory
Even though
I know you are gone,
I still look for scraps
in forgotten rooms—
pieces you left behind,
later thrown out:
scribbled to-do lists
withered by time,
the leather strap
to your old camera,
the silver key ring
you bought at the fair,
all gathered now
in a box of trinkets
beneath my bed.
Below, I’m going to share one of my poems that’s dear to my heart. I started thinking about all the things kept in a storage room, and how it can be compared to the places and people that are no longer here. It was first published in Still Here Magazine.
Don’t Ask Me What’s Gone
“What have you lost?” you ask.
I no longer know.
It sank away years ago—
behind old travel trunks
with broken seams,
clothes still scented with time.
Books with torn covers,
faded photographs,
leather cracked by light.
Newspapers wrapped around
porcelain so fine
that still shattered
when the wind came through.
So don’t ask me
what is no longer here.
Take me to the window,
where I can breathe fresh air—
where silence holds
room for me.
Do you have an object that carries more meaning than it would seem?
Until next time,
Jonna
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