Things I Put Away This Week
The little tile table that summers
on the porch, chipped
but still serviceable; and the black
folding chairs, even the ancient
foam cushions, so brittle you could snap
them in half, should have replaced
them years ago—all tied up and
stowed for the season—and the jute
rugs, hose, umbrella, tiki
torches, maybe an hour’s work. T-
shirts, towels, the book I finished and
reshelved, never to open again. Coffee
cups, glasses, plates, half a cheese
pizza, the ukulele I fully intended
to teach myself to play. The idea
of flying to Iceland in April, of ever
moving to Spain.
And a leash
and a collar, a blanket and a bowl.
And a life I locked
in my heart,
chipped but still beating, still
tethered, still and tethered,
still.
Ken Honeywell is a retired writer and ad agency owner, Butler University graduate, and long-time Indianapolis resident. He is on several nonprofit boards and hosts Radio Free Book Club on WQRT-LP. His favorite book is John Crowley's Engine Summer. He bakes a lot.