Leftovers

Richard Dinges Jr.

An open can of olives,

shelled shrimp in ziplock

bags, smoked salmon 

that smells of yesterday,

my refrigerator casts

doubts on today,

with a cool waft of air

when I open the door,

a shock of bright light

on memories

that idle on shelves

after holidays pass 

and gently decompose

into tomorrow.