Poetry With Hart

“What do you want to be
before you’re retired?”
The empty diaper box said
to the new microwave box,
a much needed, albeit
belated, wedding gift.

“What do you mean?
I thought we go straight to recycling,
or that firepit I saw out back
on my way in?”
He replied perplexed, sides sleek
in the kitchen light.

The diaper box laughed,
“Oh no sweetheart,
There’s still life in us yet.
This is a house with children.
Infinite possibilities and plenty of time
As long as we hold our shape.”
she said with a trill
echoing down the seams,
the extra reinforced packing tape
dancing with the sound.

“Well what are my options then
give me some examples.”
The microwave box, unconvinced
and fully prepared for the recycling bin.
Her response rushed out then,

“Oh, I mean anything at all!
You can be a racecar,
an igloo, a secret spy base,
Santa’s workshop at the northpole,
a castle with a dragon inside,
a house, an ancient temple
for archeological expeditions,
the cave where mankind
first discovered fire, a -“

“Anything… pragmatic?”
he asked, visibly shrinking.

She had to pause a moment,
used to exploring the imaginative
joy of their finite lives,
“I suppose… storage
for out of season clothes?
Or the donations bin?”

You could see the microwave box
sigh with relief, straightening again.
As he did, a child’s voice
rang out loud from the other room,
“I’m going to the moon!!!”

The diaper box chuckled, shaking top to bottom as she wryly said,
“Oh honey, you’re in for an experience
that’s out of this world.”