The Million Dollar Poetry Project

love’s filing cabinet

by Wolfgang Nibori

ah, those dust-covered fingertips i refuse to lick
but i found your page, that whole sheaf
buried. in the back of the archives
oh the pen was broken and the ink came clotted
we still wrote it all down, didn’t we?
yes, you and me, we made a record. we sealed us a little fate
even the devil couldn’t write up a contract the way we do
even the lost, greedy souls who broke our world
would never sign away their lives this way
you and i, recorded, filed and stuffed into the back of the archive
still those dust-covered fingertips counting
every day we tick off another notch on the survival post
tear-stained, yellowed, maybe faded by the dark
i’d draft and sign it yet again
cause hey, we made it this far

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depersonified

by Wolfgang Nibori

as a child i had a bag of marbles

cat’s eyes, crazy glass swirls

slightly unnerving, the bag cloudy with age

i never played marbles, no idea it was a game

clinking sounds made me happy

i tried chipping them to see if they’d break

this memory’s very old, a tv without remote

never liked marbles, boring toys

not true toys at all, those paddle balls

American Playboy, bumblebees and marigolds

see how confusing memories can be?

i caught a rabbit once, kept in a bird cage

the marbles, though, can’t hold my mind’s eye

so impersonal, so pointless

i feel sorry for kids who had only those to play with

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