Sold Memories

The patched cotton quilt was made with love, then sold

As memory.

He protected hot from cold,

And was attached to a price tag that read, “14 dollars.”

 

He featured scars of seasoned skin,

And smelled

Like the bitterness of strong coffee.

 

He now lay naked; useless as a wet towel, or a

Pen longing

For a surface to mark.

 

I once felt her body cool mine

Like cold corona on a warm mouth,

But now lay

Spade; captive;

With nothing to keep warm.