Lost Keys
By Ann Chiappetta
Jagged
little metal Alloy trinkets
open tumblers
Strung together on rings, tied
To thongs or clipped to lanyards
Brass or silver toned
taste like cold blood
When clamped between lips and teeth
While Struggling to open the door
After Marathon shopping sprees
One might surmise keys are replaceable — after all
What is a locksmith for?
hand slips into pocket
fingering objects
touching the stories
Represented in physical sentiment’s
A pewter policeman’s hat, a plastic starfish
A silver dog bone
If someone else found these keys, would they know? Would
They understand the life
The symbolism
The unrevealed memories
Of a charm for a father
Or a mother, gone
and the bone
Signifying the bond and love
for a guide dog?
Just trinkets
inserted into slots
And forever remembered with each turn
The opening of a door
into a heart.
2014