Lost Keys
I always find my keys
in the next to last
place I look.
I keep searching
just in case there’s something
better between the couch cushions
or in the crisper,
maybe a set that unlocks
a faster car,
a bigger house,
a better life,
hidden under the coffee table.
(From the weekly Living Poetry prompt.)
About Bartholomew Barker
Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in the Triangle region of North Carolina where he has hosted a monthly feedback workshop for more than decade. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he lives and writes poetry.
Bartholomew Barker, Poet 
Yes, keep hope alive!
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You never know what you’ll find ’til you look.
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This is a fun one!
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Glad you like it.
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Ooo, I like the point you make with finding the lost keys!
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Thanks! It never hurts to keep looking.
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