A Little Package from Home

Photo by Benjamin Disinger vis Unsplash 


The hole at the bottom,

end of the road, a fiery kilm.

Chip near the tail,

pilgrimages in tattered UPS boxes.

Every US State in a beige rundown van,

trying to settle

a three-stair bungalow, shag carpet,

decades-old clutter


smooth, newly built, modern

and a decorative art pale blue vase.

Making bedsides look like something out of


Dust still travels,

from place to place

scrubbing it down,

no way to wet wipe the past.


It was a joke

over your head,

the made in america stamp at the bottom.

Hidden from view,

sitting on its origins,

stars and stripes,

missing something critical.


Three key events

in the making of the sculpture,

explain the reason for its creation,

why the joke goes over your head.

What makes it critical:


One: Creation.

Muddy brown,

seen on the cuffs

ordinary green uniforms,

and staining the soles

of black issued boots.

Rains create the muddy brown,

rarity in California,

like squirrels in Joshua tree.

Devised from the cracked earth

and biblical rain,

black eyes, little bits of silver,

like bullet casings,

or dog tags.


Two: Ownership

hands clutching it,

Covered by tan dust.

Hard little sculpture

sold in a gift shop,

passed around, and around

in a parking lot.

Squirrels are Sociable,

traveling from a home to a van,

bed to bed,

grease finger prints,

pink marker smudges on the tail.

ceramic squirrels chip when to amicable,

when too many hands reach,

when they were meant for one.

Almost shattering at kitchen tables,

from a lack of care.


Three: Unearthed

a little package,

plastic peanuts and bubble wrap.

Peel back the layers until we found

the earthen object.

Determined to make it north,

a past of Joshuas and cracked earth,

clutter and bungalows,

dollar bills and

prayer beads,

a brokedown van in Tennessee.

A little bit closer.

to home.