Friday, 5 August 2022

 

on layers of love :: tomorrow i will clean/clear/declutter the kitchen drawer

by Jen Schneider

tomorrow i will sort the mismatched layers of junk. in the rectangular drawer. in the square kitchen. a jumble of joviality (artifacts from kids’ meals & meals made by kids). a cumulation of gems of varying degrees of authenticity (& monetary value). a collection of castaways of varying degrees of recyclability. crayola markers with varying degrees of ink. stickers – looney tunes, garfield, upside down smiley faces – with varying degrees of glue. emojis & emotion. stuck. on/of/in me. many form sediments in mind & memory. i wonder if the local dump would be so welcoming. play doh canisters - electric blue, neon green, tangerine orange. also hardened. with/of time. plastic lids secure crumbles & crumbles of calendar dates. trips of/thru colic & coronations. patience & puberty. mens & manus. pocket-sized plastic figurines. faded features. paint of primary hues. reds & blues. moods dominate motion. all contents secure. playskool robots. lego bricks. superheroes of mixed genders & generations. miniature boots of lavender & disco pink. polly pockets. all pockets stocked. of dust & destiny. my left-hand fingers a small photo. a kodak instant. a canister of undeveloped film waits. lost game pieces. a sand timer. trinkets of here & there – a betty boop watch & a whoopie cushion. silenced but not silent. still suited for play. a playing card of unclear suits. the joker. stray threads. indigo cotton fibers. knotted finger knits. rainbow colors dance. the tango. while tangled. a penny, rust with time. value intact. melted suckers. sour apple specks. a tiny gray wheel. it spins. like the analog clock on the kitchen’s wall. & the gray matter upstairs. tinkertoy sticks. lincoln logs. all matter building blocks to varying degrees. buds in bloom. of spectators & party favor spectacles. wire rimmed. one lens missing. & a key. singular & single. unmarked. on a snoopy themed ring. it’s a (the) key. of hearts & heartache. of confetti & raspberry flavored clutter. tomorrow i will clean/clear/declutter the kitchen drawer. perhaps. not now. perhaps not at all. instead, i consume. inhale. exhale. breathe. sweet scents - paints & potpourri. in small pockets of air where cinnamon kisses cotton candy. eraser dust lingers. days too. rubber (& time) unable to erase mismatched layers of love. 


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Jen Schneider is an educator who lives, writes, and works in small spaces throughout Pennsylvania. Recent works include A Collection of Recollections, Invisible Ink, On Habits & Habitats, and Blindfolds, Bruises, and Breakups.

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