Poetry

Personal Effects

There is nothing so sad as a clear plastic hospital bag.

Kite-string thin threaded through plastic puckers

pulling at the corners, ripping at the seams

The material trappings of this world lumped at the bottom

Empty expanse of cellophane spread out for the world to see

Contained for safe keeping

Inconsequential in the aftermath

Who cares for scrunchies and soft socks

When the immaterial has left this mortal coil

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6 thoughts on “Personal Effects

    • Jennifer Butler Basile's avatar Jennifer Butler Basile says:

      Thank you so much for your kind words, Mariah. Fortunately no one close to me died, but awaiting test results got me contemplating all things morbid.

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    • Jennifer Butler Basile's avatar Jennifer Butler Basile says:

      You are so intuitive. You knew the poem didn’t tell the whole story – and of course it didn’t. It’s a hard and lonely place behind the hospital curtain, making you contemplate all sorts of things.

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