On the Leaving of Things
I try to take things with me where I can, Devices that seem normal, not too new, Objects that my hand knows how to grasp As well as thoughts that take no energy to think. There is a spice to newness, but it’s rich, And savoured best when sprinkled on the bland. Too many pieces of a former life Stay back among the pieces of their own, And they are gaps for me, as I for them....