TOUCHSTONE
ART LIT ABOUT SUSTAINABILITY STAFF

Our purpose is to please

others before ourselves,

 

to allow ourselves to be thrown

into the crowds of screaming fans.

 

Sometimes they catch us. Other times

we fall, fall, fall

 

down the rows of bleachers

into the hands of an 8 year old girl.

 

She will cling to us with two small hands

like lint to a Christmas sweater

 

since she is scared she will lose

us in the chaos engulfing the stadium.

 

She might take us and give us a purpose

for three days. Then we become

 

irrelevant, on a shelf by a window

collecting dust,

 

if we are lucky.

Sometimes we see the seasons change and

 

sometimes, when the sun comes out

we have a purpose again

 

for an hour after snack time. Then,

if we are lucky, we make it back to the shelf.

 

Sometimes we get forgotten outside

till the snow comes

 

or the dog gets us

or mom gets tired of tripping over us and

 

throws us away,

if we are lucky.

ERIN
MULCAHY

SOUVENIR

Poetry

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