5 things in a box, they say.
What are those 5 things?
I’m reminded of that poem, I wrote about you, Ilicia…
Where I went through your box…
the box of your mind,
the box of your soul…
rainbow colored crayons
and brightly colored hair.
Your overexposed polaroids of yonder years
and holographic pictures you have yet to take.
The last thing in your paper box, Ilicia,
is the enormous and deep, almost rose-colored vision I have of you…
body hugging tailored clothes, and tightly woven repeated textiles…
you sitting at your light table desk,
your original altar of creative work,
And then, The Children’s Place– your favorite, well-loved pattern of monsters.
I remember you saying, that particular stroke of genius carried you through,
but never was enough–
which, unapologetically, was one of many things I always loved about you
and continue to love
as I close this paper box again
of 5 (or more) things
that makes you so succinctly