the lacquered box

Poem #33 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction


when he opened the box
he found a small stack
of opened
much touched
letters
loosely bound
by a knotted string
together with a shivered splinter
of wood

the splinter
fit
into a space

the bottom of the box
became loose
came out

lying flat on the new bottom
of the box
was a photograph
discoloured sepia

together with a shivered splinter
of wood

the splinter
fit
into a space

the bottom of the box
became loose
came out

lying flat on the new bottom
of the box
was a lock
of golden hair
soft and delicate
bound by a strip
of scarlet ribbon
together with a shivered splinter
of wood

he looked
a long time
at the wooden splinter

then slowly put the pieces
of the lacquered box
and their secrets
back together
the way they had been
before


© Frank Prem 2017

Bachelard and me Poem #34: an aerial truth

4 thoughts on “the lacquered box

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