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A perforated basket
Made on a yawning day
I was born.
Stashed through my hurried life
Into the parking garage of future
Guarding me jealously
Without a reason.
A perforated basket
Weaved under the thorny hands
Of a carpenter and seamstress.
Seen by storm and thunder
Carried through floods
Into an unknown gutter—life,
Clearing all goodies along
A perforated basket
Goaded and glared at me
For so long it became a neighbour.
A neighbour that swallowed all thought
Of suctioned life in its prime
Into the belly of mother Earth.
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