Forget Magazine. Remember, Remember, Remember.

How many knick-knacks have they assessed:
chipped figurines smuggled sock-balled
in post war duffels-
all this bric-a-brac moved
through generations into a gamut
white noised programming.

Neoclassics from fire sales, estate auctions
mantelpieces ticking a notice
span of pendulum
a history among erudite knowledge-
two hundred years of heirloom knock-offs.

Can the shelves fill
leaving no space for soft-spoken hosts to hold?
These knick knacks have lasted generations of children
marital arguments that clamoured for breakage
the cool abjection palm cupped
a craven's windpipe, glass shatter-
the resonance of good china, willow print
triangulated on the linoleum floors.

In my home: low key drama
the pieces epoxyed
fine cracked gifts from dollar stores
Chinatown wicker emporiums-
a cheated heritage, a moot collection.

Tammy Armstrong is one for the ages.