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A Chink in the Armor
by Sherrie Gonzales-Kolb (Cassel)
Detritus is underrated.
I blew it, and so, I'll give it a few days
to blow over, for the dust to settle,
to see what the tide brings in.
Like junkyards, minus the smelly old guys
are filled with treasures,
rust, dust, and misshapen cigar tins.
I once found an old bike, the exact one
we couldn't afford at Christmas, with
chipping paint, but salvageable.
Minerva was my best find. Matted
hair, naked and filthy, waiting
for a family.
I took her home, bathed her,
coiffed her hair, dressed her,
and loved her to the ends of the
earth. You all said she was ugly,
but I dubbed her the belle
of the ball. Loving her still makes
me cry. Bikes, babies, and broken
things come hurtling out of
and so I ride out this dust devil,
gaining momentum. A year
from now, this will be an
insignificant blip, a barely perceptible
stain, a pin prick,