Preservation

Letters link together in red thread,
fresh embroidery on decrepit socks.
I will lose one when doing laundry
or wear it through as a cleaning rag.

I engrave each key, scrolling along
words that make up my name.
A locker key in high school:
the S worn but distinguishable,
yet it vanished. A road swallowing
it whole when my mind was turned.

A wallet identifies me by name, birth,
location, vital details that build my person
- physicality sheened in precious laminate.
A post-it note bearing a return to address
is not forever but permanent marker
cannot be a misnomer these days.

I protect myself from inevitable second death
and hope that like the Egyptians,
my pitiful possessions left in lieu
will anchor the simplicity of a name
in the absentminded landscape of history.

a/n: no one is forever and we cannot afford to be so arrogant.