Kate

Ode to a Marlboro Thermos
###
###On a winter morning before school,
###another day of second grade,
###I held you in
###shivering mittened hands and sipped
###hot cocoa,
###warmed by you and
###the rumbling heater of dad’s Ford.
###
###Once,
###from the yellow-flowered linoleum,
###accompanied by a button-eyed ragdoll,
###I asked to borrow you
###but mother said no,
###you were for “grown ups”
###and I should stick to
###my aluminum Popeye lunchbox
###(with no thermos).
###But I tried to sneak you anyway—
###and dropped you,
###frozen as
###you clattered down
###each wooden step
###farther and farther
###out of reach. Finally,
###lying there,
###stilled by gravity.
###
###Now nearly lost amongst the broken
###CB radios, empty Schlitz bottles,
###jars of miscellaneous nails
###and screws and
###two decades of grime,
###still red and white.
###A flag on this shelf—invoking
###misplaced patriotism.
###
###The price is five dollars.
###
###The next owner,
###will they clutch you in both hands,
###inhaling a faint
###whisper of smoke and coffee,
###a hint of drug-store cologne?