Tales of a Tattler

   Some objects seem to arrive in our lives already carrying a history we cannot fully know. Their value lies not in rarity, but in the invisible passage of hands, seasons, distances, and small survivals etched into them.    A Tiny Teal Trinket is a poem about a forgotten object quietly existing through time. 

  Sometimes a line arrives long before its meaning does. I wrote this poem years ago, without much intention beyond following an unsettling image to its end. Looking back at it now, I find myself drawn less to the idea of poison itself, and more to the forms it chooses to wear: beauty, softness, charm, even familiarity. This remains one of the more unusual themes I’ve explored, which perhaps explains why it stayed with me for so long.