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.

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