i found a thing, a shiny thing
hidden in the morning dew
and with toe of my shoe
i turned it over in the rain
and so it was that i saw
this thing, this shiny thing
was no treasure–a great fissure,
juxtaposition of thing and signifier
where no signified remains,
and the stains on forgotten honor
refuse to come clean.
i found a shiny, worthless thing
lying there in the dew-soaked grass
and like the ageless terrors of the past
i forgot it, hoping for a new spring.