Retrievable

My kid asked for it and I went cold.

I'd thrown it away. Two days ago.

Two days of garbage between here and there.

I told them I didn't know where it was.

I knew exactly where it was.

Midnight. I'm in the trash

with a flashlight between my teeth,

digging through coffee grounds and wet paper,

through the things we put away

and don't want to look at again.

My hands are covered in something

that isn't clean. Isn't supposed to touch skin.

But I find it. There.

Coffee grounds stuck to one corner.

Paper wrapped around it like a second skin.

The thing I decided was garbage

is still the thing my kid needs.

I rinse it in the dark.

My hands are still dirty when I bring it inside.