Things on Which I’ve Stumbled

                       among the remains of the Cairo Geniza

Poetry and all that garbage,

left in a pocket
       of the mind
       or a pair of pants,
                a robe,
       or slipped inside a book—
          thought’s disjecta membra—
       a letter forgotten
       (a recipe scribbled on its back)
       a shopping list,
       or bill once due,
          living’s marginalia—