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Poetry: Brett Foster (1973-2015)

Vessel of Sweets

We left the Christmas party feeling festive,
yet navigating unfamiliar streets
left us uncertain that we weren't repeating
lefts and rights. Something's just not right, I guessed.
Just then it hit us: we'd left the stoneware plate
of iced sugar cookies on top of the car.
We found our way, and in a Walgreen's parking
lot we stopped to look, take in the loss, its fate.

O little miracle! Our dread set aside!
"Well, I've never seen that before," said she,
and he said, "It was sort of like a ghost
kept holding it until we knew." Abiding
like that, it moved us, newly grateful. Gleefully
we drove with plate and sweets recovered, unlost.


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