The Art of Finding
by Roberto Christiano

Today I moved my dresser
and found a quarter,
half of an antidepressant,
and a contact lens vial.
Tomorrow I'll move my sofa
and find six mother of pearl buttons,
my aunt's blue china, a discarded will.
In the corner I'll discover a Christmas tree.
Slowly, I am learning how to find things.
Next week I'll push aside my end table
and unravel a river, a gold city, a lost country or two.
And even though I have lost, go on say it, my god you,
next month I'll shove my house away, and find the orchard
I threw out,the still life awaiting takeoff on a runway strip,
a new exciting troubled flame, the ability to call up and put down.

Copyright 2021 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.