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The museum of lost things

 Keys to a bicycle. Photographs of grandparents. A chewed block of wood, with the teeth marks of a dead pet. A diploma, tattered at the edges. My baba-suit, enshrined in crinkly tissue paper. A large collection of mismatched socks.

first cry
my newborn father
wipes his face

(Published in Cafe Haiku on 01/12/2022)

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