Temporary Storage

Going through the family shoebox of imperfect photos.

why save these?

archived spate of bursts and blurs,

an index finger, the back half of a cat.

global superstition

or specific sentiment,

imperfect image conjuring someone beloved, that time when…

family photographs heaped in a dusty new balance shoe box,

to kick down the road

to the day somebody finally chucks them.

i’m thinking total stranger

or descendant so removed

they can’t make out my forearm, your parents’ driveway, the car top luggage carrier on our ’70 dart swinger.

disposal will be easy,

untethered by memory,

or shackles of context;

family images gone cryptic, then inscrutable, then poof!

freed of the weight

of earthly significance,

or guilt at loving

the empty space we once took up.