Tchotchkes, knick-knacks, “collectibles”

Whatever you call them

you know what they really are

Dust collectors

Trapping every bit of dust and dander they come in contact with

Sometimes I feel that way

Like a dust collector

for every negative thing

floating my way

Or a gaping black hole

Devouring everything it comes in contact with…

feather duster anyone?

~Melanie Thomason



Filed under Poetry

6 responses to “Tchotchkes

  1. Wow. That’s heavy. Beautifully written and it says so very much.

  2. Sometimes, we allow what’s happening around us, to get to us, affecting us, do much so, that, the line between what’s in and out becomes, completely, meshed together, that we can’t, separate…

  3. I am in love with this poem.

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