Pg. 45 — INVENTORY by Irina Moga
Cell case, lipstick, sunglasses,
car keys,
May’s utility bill,
and, in the left compartment of my purse
amid traces of sand
a tiny, dried-up UFO
(the garden variety one –
that hovers over Lake Ontario
at Wellington Beach
at dusk
& that you could easily mistake for
a firefly
except for its cadmium and zinc
surface
that bounces back the sounds of waves.)
All in all – an
awkward vacation paraphernalia
to be discarded
as I head back to work.
