My daughter brought her bones home for me to store. I tried to reason with her You will need them with you when you settle down when you get a nicer place They will get gnawed by mice since the cat you left here disappeared last month I shall worry every night while you fly about in your ghost body you might lose the key to the door But you never win these arguments with the morose You should not have had children then and I will not have children So don’t worry about future bodies or a war that is slow to end the worst has already happened So I put the bones in the bottom drawer and left my doors unlocked
Peace waits to be unpacked
Michele Worthington
Michele Worthington lives in Tucson, AZ where the opportunity to hike in the Sonoran Desert both inspires her writing and diverts her from writing. She has poems published in Sandscript, Sandcutter, Sabino Poets; an online chapbook at unlostJournal.com. She was a Tucson Haiku Hike and Arizona Matsuri contest winner, and a finalist for the 2023 Tucson Festival of Books literary awards.