by Zachary Caballero

ol’ hereditary hoarder
ol’ bargain-buyer baller
ol’ dress for less loyalist
ol’ king of keepsakes

when will what I hold be
enough? If I comb
the knots out of my closet,
and I do not give an answer
to each questionable relic
wondering where my
eyes have been,
is the object
wrong to expect
my affection?

of course, i’m a sorry warden.
each object of my affection
only knows desire
as a lie in the eyes
only knows attention
as a glimpse of light—

In the dark spaces of my past
I am an awful oracle.

each object of my affection
remains a portable miracle:
not the thing itself, but
the king of the thing
two tricks
short of sainthood.
Yes, I kept something
I kept something alive
though I did not care about its life.
Isn’t this enough?