"Faded-Mulberry Lunchbox: Or, I've Loved You, Twenty-Two Years or So" by Laura Vogt
- Apr 3, 2025
- 1 min read
I.
The faded-mulberry lunchbox slumps
on the counter. Soft-edged rectangle
haphazard beside the sink. A smush
and ick. The scent of old things,
of what we’ve misplaced. There are sounds,
echoing from the box of rooms above. Feet,
a clatter, a thwack— What are they up to now?
Of course the smears of oil on glass,
the crumble of debris across mossy-grove
oak planks. And the lunchboxes,
which jumble about in wonky towers. Do you
remember, when it was just us two?
Just a day ago, or perhaps an entire age,
all these long years, of loving you.
II.
The faded-mulberry lunchbox slumps
on the counter. Soft-edged rectangle
haphazard beside the sink. A smush
and ick. The scent of old things,
of what we’ve misplaced. There are sounds,
echoing from the box of rooms above. Feet,
a clatter, a thwack— What are they up to now?
Of course the smears of oil on glass,
the crumble of debris across mossy-grove
oak planks. And the lunchboxes,
which jumble about in wonky towers. Do you
remember, when it was just us two?
Just a day ago, or perhaps an entire age,
all these long years, of loving you.
Laura Vogt's work has appeared in Fourteen Hills, Pleiades, Chapter House, Rust & Moth, South Carolina Review, and Enchanted Living Magazine.