You find old poems in the attic
in a box with the Remington Rand
you wrote them on in the Sixties
before computers were born.
They were published then in little
magazines like Bitterroot, the one
put out by Menke Katz, who loved
poetry by anyone from anywhere
who gave everything to write it.
What to do now with these poems
still breathing on paper but
scarred by erasures, smudges
and yellowed by time.
You could send them out
to a website where they might
appear until the site disappears
for reasons that take over
the editor’s life.
Or you could put them back in
the box with the Remington Rand
and use a Sharpie to write
a note on the box that says
“Don’t throw this box out.
A heart ticks in here.”