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Your Treasures Are Marbles
by Danielle Beazer Dubrasky
Your treasures are marbles, matchbox cars, old maps,
fly fishing lures you find in the reeds.
Hers are shells, antler shards, acorns,
the tip of a raccoon's tail found in mulched leaves.
You give her what you value most‐
a mayfly nymph broken off someone else's line.
She puts it with an antler bit, and they are two fragments
rattling together, one snapped off, one shed.
Somewhere the fisherman has unsnagged his pole
and the buck has grown back its rack.
When he startles the stag in a clearing
he is stunned by its frame.
When it lurches into the woods
he looks for a hint of pelt, weaves it into lures.
First published: Contrary Magazine