cigar box uses

the spare hand. the key to the tunnel
beneath the house. a tooth. a tooth brush.
my uncle used to smoke
in the humid summer. sweet ash.
i was in the yard eating bees. i was 
in the yard digging a hole
to put my gender in. a place to hide
the blood. a box to burry the dead chicken.
cigars of course. you could fill it with
cigars but the primary use for an object
is never the best one. filled to the brim
with marbles. a cow tongue still talking.
there are never enough boxes in my house.
i search for more places to sequester 
my ghosts. bird cage. storm cellar.
damp steps to the well. have you been a boy
inside someone else's dream?
they would ask me to stand on the table
& be the turkey. devoured one leg
at a time. i had a toy video camera.
i said, "this is a movie" pointing
the device in their faces. like popped balloons
they retreated inside a cigar box. 
ashes of your family. band aides for the journey.
a juice box. granola. a single bullet
that was once used to kill a deer.
i believe in repurposing everything 
but especially my memory. i was a mail man
to my uncle. i brought him dead lips
for him to sleep inside. i was an angel to my uncle.
i delivered meat covered in powdered sugar.
empty out the box. i need a place
to put my knife. i shake the box
as if it were a gift. open it again.
the knife is gone & it's a spool of thread.