In a Box

by Chris Butler

All of my past loves
are locked in a box
buried in the
basement.

Our repressed memories
live inside of a
cardboard coffin
sporting Air Jordan,

holding bouquets
of wilting plastic flowers
sprinkled with the ashes
of soulless photographs

and love letters sponging
up gallons of gasoline.
And in the box my loves stay
until a teen aged February day.