Prose Poem: Toys

Creative Commons photo.

As I said last time I tried one of these, I’m sure a poetry stickler would critique my form and such, but hey.

I’ve been on a Nirvana kick again, as happens. Enjoy this song while you read.


I drove around with your daughter’s discarded toys in my trunk for 18 months after you left me. Maybe that’s what grief was, carrying the things we didn’t want to, unseen. The toys, once her favorites, were piled into two garbage bags overflowing and haphazard. You were going to take them to Goodwill. You were decluttering ahead of us moving in together. I took them from your trunk to help you. Instead, I spent 18 months pushing a bubble gum-scented Build-A-Bear out of the way whenever I went grocery shopping, and heard the rattle of another forgotten toy whenever I took a hard left turn.

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