you lift seashells
from a silver case
shift them on a table.
Their closeted scent
pulses memories:
a field of silver pinwheels

how hard it was to release
a mud-coated turtle
under a willow
near the deep lake.  

A dusty blue suitcase
and a ticket placed
in an unread book
call you through the night  

but your scarred heart
weighs you down.                          

~ Found poem composed/modified from Patricia Fargnoli’s poem “Wherever You’re Going”