Things I've Lost and Found

I seem to have left my soul
somewhere amidst the uneven rows
I used to mow in the yard, hidden with
weeds and holes from the dogs.

My sense of self is missing, too.
I thought I saw it under
the cigarette butts you’d explain away
as a bad day or a countdown or OK.

Perhaps either or both are with my voice.
It caught the wind with my last scream
on the side of the highway. A memory
whose details I’ve purposely lost.

But my lost passion was an accident.
Caught up somewhere in your bins
of old seeds, it lives in your world still
though I cannot.

I left to search. I came back to find.
I ran away because all that turned up
was this feeling in the pit of my stomach
like we were about to catch on fire.

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