Keepsakes
I kept my Pope Francis coin stashed
away in my lunchbox. Front pocket,
protected by a zipper no one
thought worked. I forgot I put
it there so many months ago,
but it never did rust, no matter
how much I spilled or what
leaked from inside. I found
it yesterday, rejoiced, and placed
it on the kitchen table next
to baseball cards and colored-pencil
pictures, hoping it won’t get buried.
Not too short but it does leave me hanging at the end wondering if the coin got buried after all or if it’s still there. But maybe that’s the effect you wanted? I’d like to have another line or two telling me if, after keeping it buried in the backpack all that time, it remains safe and protected or if something happened to it. Nothing long, just a line or two at the most.
This line: “it there so many months ago,”
I might drop the word “so” to smooth the flow, the rhythm.
^I agree that I was hanging on at the end. I am also drawn to the “zipper no one thought worked.” I don’t know if I want more here or love the simplicity. I really like this poem as it is.