Generational Wealth

(In progress)

Is this all that remains of you? Broken pastels, unused for their sacredness. Artifact of creations. Preserved here without you.

264.

Preserved sunshine in pocketed moments with you. Is this what you safeguarded every morning and night? Marking the time you’d see the sun. The warmth of your hands holding speculative worlds upon the paper. Curated dandelions in the backyard. The color of turmeric, of soft light wafting through open summer windows. Clay, glass, reed.

182.

Foaming churning waters. Wax, ceramic tiles, fog upon the shore. Glimmers of veins within rock. The heads of some ducks I always found funny. Latex gloves and hospital scrubs. Auroras I have never seen. Macaroons I have. Remnants of light blotting my eye.

204.

The color of sky obfuscated by clouds. Edelweiss in twilight. Cubes of ice. The shadows within white, bringing darkness to. Breath in the morning cold, rolling fog in the mind. Haunted spirits, bedsheets, toothpaste. An indigo dye that didn’t take. Memories preserved in the crevices of tree bark. Sap and water. chem trails.

34.

Meteors. Honey on toast. Snapdragons. A hair from my dog you’ve never met and never will. Preserved here and within my heart. Bright as the color shown in nostalgic comforting rays. There is something cross contaminated within, lingering. Some grey pollutant dulling. I wonder if it will spread. Through the garden and up the leaves.