remnant maker they would leave body bags of shredded paper outside the office building. buldging with slivered words, i burrowed inside & slept in the fragment & ribbon. felt my tongue tatter too-- become strips of past necessity. a dead credit card humming, swarming my ears. i wanted to buy some nonesense like a kiddie pool for my kitchen or a play-food set to pretend eat when guests come over. let words cuff me. trance of treasure & old gold-watched men. a cane brimmed from the plastic lining. all the secrets lived there like wasps. if you don't bother a secret it won't bother you. naively, i let them envelope me. wondered who will do the dismantling of my life when i am no longer there to lock the front door & junk the junk mail. a little boy standing resolute above a shredder & a father telling him "careful, don't get your fingers caught." i snagged my finger on a ripe strand of promise in the pile. every once in awhile you find a legal paragraph so sentimental it deserves to be prayer. a will wrote itself in the basement with only a candle & a can opener. i always emerged terrified & papercut. knowing too much is irresisteble & then irrevocable. secretly took a few pieces home to try & sew them back together on the kitchen table by the light of the only firefly left in the city. i was a good investigator of dead trees & octopus ink. never did get enough pieces to make a document. tell me, what evidence is your favorite? i like a driver's license or hand print. i dusted for more hand prints in my apartment & found i was truly alone. both comforting & hollowing. didn't return the splinters. i still read them aloud to myself when i'm searching for what to say to all the window's dying insects. we're all just one good remnant away from poof! & gone.