The Box Series #2: Opening the Box

Sunshine radiating
windowing his soul through his eyes and mouth

wishing the box could be open for more than just
one day

he stares inside
and wishes she was there.

He knows exactly how to picture it

her eyes, two moonbeams winking at his love
her mouth, mirroring his own

weaving into a smile
unlike any other he’d known

her nose, twitching and tickling his cheek
as she leaned in close to breathe on him.

He stares at an empty box

a gift that contains nothing inside
but was made with her very soul.

The Box Series #1: Walking to the Box

He walks home from the day of grind
the livelihood of working out wrinkles
and wrinkling the status quo.

He skips up the steps, not noticing the flowers
but squinting up at the sky, knowing clouds that roll
are always rain-soaked and ready to wring out
at will.

He unlocks the door, taking care to press in the key
instead of forcing the lock
a mechanism not unlike his own heart.

He closes the door, and unwears the day like a scarf
unwinding from his neck
carefully flung to the floor
of his humbling abode.

He unzips the catastrophe
and unscrews the smile
He unshelves the book on the mantle of his mind

And turns to the little case by his bed.

The silky lacquered box
no larger than a hand
No smaller than a bookmark

He makes himself comfortable on the bed
and strokes the head of the box
a new expression working its way across his features

like a dawning sun
his eyes wonder open
the dust motes glitter in his radiance
And he opens the box.