The Bland Quality of Parlor Sweets

August 1, 2011
I move
in slow motion,
for I have fallen into
I fell with the ginger
crumbs, as they were
scraped from your favorite
china plate.
You threw the crumbs
away, but you
did not know
that I was on the plate too,
curled up and sleeping
on a painted tea rose.
So I fell too,
scraped away
by the butter knife
and now I am
stuck in a tub
of molasses.
What I can't
is how you did not
see me.
You saw the crumbs
of the ginger snaps.
At least you know
where they are-
even if it is
the garbage bin.
But you've lost me,
and cannot find me,
and I cannot get
to show you
that I am still here.

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