one yard of faded pale hair,
braided; (tied off with a bow—
stored inside the next-to-bottom drawer
of the desk near the window
with no view)
My father had an unusual book that rested on his work desk. It was worn and brown. The covers looked hard, almost like a box. When I was a child, from my view at four feet, the ends seemed tinted, a marbled brown design, chipped at the edges. I imagined it to be a case, a chest filled with things I might find interesting or valuable. I wanted to look inside.