The Cosmic Lost and Found

The Cosmic Lost & Found  If there’s a cosmic lost and foundand you know where to find itthen you know where I’ll beheaped on top of a pileof discarded whateverslost glovesand scarves and hatsan inexplicable bathrobea number of solo socksyour copy of the Tao te Chingby Ursula le Guinthe necklace you stolefrom your motherthat reminded herof your fatherthe keys to the lockon your gloveboxbut not whateveris trapped in there. I’m sifting through boththings utterly forgotten and thingsthat plague you with the naggingquestion of where you left them. I sit on an infinity of bobby pinsand rubber bandsthe frame containingall but the senior year photosof your son, even the onewhere he wore the aubergine beretthere’s your ring in the shapeof a leaping horse Nicki lostthere’s the leather belt you tooledin 8th grade shop class with the lettersR O Y, for your grandfathercentered between filigreeson my lap is the white catthat ran away one springwho had white eyes and a fat bellylying with his head on my kneeis your golden retrieverwhich your step-father soldfor killing the grass along the fence-linewhere he ran and ran. My bed is made of all the junk mailnever read and never missedand notebooks lost with onlya few front pages filled withthe insecure marks of hesitant youthsomewhere around hereis your first Danzig cassettethat Bob Dylan posterand the tape with your father’s voicewhich you never did listen toall the way throughbecause it made you cry so hard. There I am adriftamidst these oddmentsthe keeper of the left behindthe recorder of what’s missing. There’s me whistlinga little tuneyou made upwhen you were nineabout the cloudsand the horses. There’s mewaiting to be found. -Jeanette Powers