Mint Condition
what is used up, spent
is also a vessel for the holy,
as dry leaves become a nest
as bare branches hold the sunrise.
— Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
I was that kid
who kept his Star Wars toys
in their original packaging.
Pristine.
Untouched.
Valuable
in some hypothetical future.
Cherished
but not for their intended purpose.
Loved
but only from a distance.
Only while they remained
in mint condition.
Half a century later,
the boxes are still sealed,
but yellowed tape is curling.
The corner of a protective Rubbermaid
has given way
to an indefatigable rat.
Luke’s scuffed plastic entombment—
like the brittle plastic
on grandma’s prized couch
I longed to feel
just once.
On the outside of the Millennium Falcon box:
Some assembly required.
This piece was a turning point for me.
Earlier this year, I started an experiment. I wanted to see if I could write a poem a day for 30 days, inspired by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer (whose self-challenge began as a 30-day experiment and became a two-decade-long practice). The poems didn’t have to be “good,” but they needed to be emotionally honest.
In the first five days of my challenge, most of what I’d written was quite abstract and somewhat unsatisfying. I found myself circling ideas more than inhabiting them. On day six, I heard Rosemerry read “This Difficult Day,” quoted in the epigraph above. I found myself thinking about the illusion of perfection and what it costs us, and I wanted to see if I could make that concrete.
This is what showed up.
I don’t think of this piece as a metaphor so much as a microcosm. It holds together on its own terms, completely contained. But it also opens outward.
Writing this shifted something for me. Most of what I’ve written since has been more grounded in lived moments, with a kind of turn or realization emerging from within the scene rather than being imposed on it.
I’m now on day 47 of that 30-day challenge. I may never share or revisit those first five poems, but almost everything since then feels worth doing one or the other. I’m not saying this will become a decades-long practice. I may not make it to day 48. But it’s already changed the way I inhabit the world.
Thank you, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, for the nudge.