Things That Get Lost | A&E: Poetry Picks | Indy Week
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Things That Get Lost 

It's the little one
I worry about, the fast disappearing
guppy, how his frog green goggles bob
up and down and down
beneath the wet surface,
how the visible becomes invisible.

How for elongated nail-biting seconds
I can't find
the dark mop of soaked hair.

Once I lost him
in a store, aisles and endless aisles
of panic ensued, the floor spun
into a whirlpool of blurred tile.
Circles of loss, small buttons
of me disappearing with each passing second.

Even after I heard his cry,
that tone-specific inflection mama,
pieces of me were so far gone,
I could not get them back.

Maureen Sherbondy lives in Raleigh with her husband and three sons. She writes poetry and fiction.

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