Evacuation

“The things you think about, times like these.”

The books. Cannot be replaced.

But for some odd reason you leave behind the box of books signed by their poets. You've met these poets. You are sure that if you requested a signature on a new copy, you would receive. You could dedicate some of your time tracking them down at readings. Reminding them of the first time you bought this book. Tell them why you need this book again.The sword will boom to your chest that again and always, "Imagine the Angels of Bread."

Books that can not be left behind.

• Anything that has to do with the sisterhood of bees.
• “The Source” as presented and grandly dedicated by your accidental fountain.
• Similarly gifted Siddur...
• With love and respect, all books regarding God will not be abandoned despite present circumstances.
• Complete works of William Shakespeare (you are suddenly surprised by your miraculous allegiance to the Bard. Despite your many academic frays.)
• Complete works of Geoffrey Chaucer (you are very not surprised by this)
• A handmade book your niece authored. Subject, “Our Family.” In which even pets make an appearance.

The pets come with you. Dedication. You will not be moved on this.

Despite accusations you did not take wine or cologne.

Everyone knows you hate cologne.

Everyone knows you love wine. But would never steal it.

You bought your own.

You're not as worried about clothes as you thought you would be.

But worried about the good muffin pan. The perfect pans for challah. A brand new cook book.

With your hands in your hair you realize you will not leave without the honey. Honey from Home. Honey from Israel. And on hands and knees you find it. Tuck it away safe for when you can bake again. Create from the heart. 

And if you never go back, at least you grabbed the new bottle of fair trade shea. The work of women cooperatives can not go to waste.

The bed is safe. But your desk is not.

Every poet has to create priorities.

Rest. The honey will be here.