What objects would you have me bury,
that the ground accept the stone sunken into it
and the building we place there not collapse.
You can have these colored glass marbles,
white and blue and rust. And this thread.
Here are spoons, and plates. Bowls.
Coins and gold leaf, so that you have
something shiny to hold in your soily
fist. What else would you like, because
you have it. House keys, for instance.
They are yours. Shoes and socks, matched
pairs, an aquarium with the fish still in it,
my blue winter coat and vertical blinds.
A lamp, a bicycle. I will not question your
needs, take these things. A refrigerator,
certainly, have it. Stainless steel, of course.
An armoire, here it is. The dresser, its drawers
full of my clothing, your clothing, yours to
do whatever you wish with. What will you do
with the things I give you, do they eliminate
that black-hole hunger rumbling in your gut.