the other day I started a new book
a used book, written by Stephen King
purchased online from a seller in Minneapolis I think

when I began reading, something curious fell out from between the pages
it was small, square-shaped, smooth
a white sealed envelope with the label “fruit punch” in black typeset
the only other markings indicated the contents were “kosher”
and users were to “add 8 oz of water”

I rubbed my thumb across this nondescript bookmark
flattened and smooth
presumably left by the book’s previous owner
a drink mix packet seemed a strange choice to tag the page where you left off reading

but it made me wonder about random items that have doubled for me as a bookmark
and what I might have forgotten
sandwiched in the pages of books dropped off at the Goodwill
or sold for a few dollars at the local bookseller

        used envelopes
                most likely with a grocery list jotted down on it
        Splenda packets
        napkins
        business cards
        receipts
        neon post-it notes

points of entry into my life at the time
        a pamphlet from Bryce Canyon during an RV trip a few summers ago
        random thoughts that occur to me in the car
                notes that may or may not have been jotted down on napkins as I lean against the                 steering wheel while driving
        paint sample cards from my most recent renovation project
        gum wrappers from one of the few times when I had chewing gum in my purse
        business card collected at a conference
                most likely for someone I never followed up with

inconsequential and significant at the same time
everyday artifacts that get the job done

in the Victorian era, it was customary to leave locks of hair in books
lovers would exchange tufts of their hair tucked between pages
        what a delightfully romantic thought

what if I were to intentionally leave something in the books I gave away?
        an intimate gesture to some distant stranger

generous words to the next reader
favorites quotes
notes about passages that I found meaningful

or

spoilers to warn readers about how the book ends
        “It’s the boyfriend!”
        “Don’t waste your time.”
        “Jack dies at the end.”

        That would be cruel
                but kind of funny

Maybe instead of mindlessly snagging and shoving something between the pages
of whatever book I am reading
I will use it as an opportunity to bring in something
            beautiful
            lovely
            expansive

slippery snowpack
pancakes sizzle on wood stove
kids play Crazy Eights
Spaceballs twice on DVD
at the hearth wet socks dry

Another mass shooting,
Another day of fear,
Another community,
Left in pain and tears.  

Another headline,
Another news brief,
Another moment of shock and disbelief.  

Another set of families left to grieve,
Another call for change, but will it ever be achieved?  
Another moment of silence and mourning,
Another reminder of need for constant warning.  

Another mass shooting,
nothing in place to mitigate,
Another round of condolence,
meaningful action can no longer wait!

two months ago  today
seemed distant   now present
future soon passed

I’m on the floor, playing with grandkid’s toys.
I’m an adult, so they have to let me.  

I’ll think I’ll take some of their picture books
with me when I pack my bag for law school.          

                             #  

Now they’re tweens with their own apartments.
I’m an adult, so the door is double bolted.

I’d teach them to eat trail mix and play poker
but, evidently, I’m the one with a lot to learn.

robins wait
as the possum 
takes her turn

Whose bones these are I think I know
Under a thin screed of snow
All picked clean and scattered about
But which is whose they all had bones

We stand our horses out of reverence
No point to risk a closer look
Bobby’s leg he broke when he was nine, we might find
Or Granny’s jaw, no teeth

Then Alfred’s skull with the bullet hole
Even the bullet might come out whole
I saw it go in, anyway
That day the mob ran over us

This place is dangerous, desolate and cold
We should not linger exposed and skyed
We have purpose; watchful scouts must ride
Make our circuit for the few who hide, alive

shape your heart
                    as hard-

                all at once
by breaking to see

        fix more with
            fresh progress

We saw redwoods that twenty men
could not form a chain around
but there were some the wind
had knocked down
like it knocks down a candle flame. 

We approached seals along the shore
which barked when we came too close.

We spoke softly, being strangers,
and looked over our shoulders
and locked the car doors at stoplights
and worried as night fell 
about drug addicts sneaking in 
through the rental house windows.

We left them open anyway,
so we could smell the salt air
and feel the tongue of the breeze 
which formed the waves 
which broke on the shore
and resifted the beach
melting the day’s footprints
and tipping us finally into sleep.