Garage Sale
she never threw anything out
the driveway is filled
clothes hang on racks
hers on the left,
a few of his on the right
tables of her shoes
kitchenware, pots, pans
knickknacks, tchachka’s
souvenirs from long ago trips
some of the furniture
will go..there’s no need
for all of it now
the most valuable,
jewelry, some paintings
are in the garage
the money isn’t important
at this point
it doesn’t matter….
how can he put a price
on what’s been taken
his memories aren’t of
a particular dress or
pair of earrings she wore
he won’t look at a painting
or photograph of a trip
and think of her
he misses her smile,
the touch of her hand on his face
the look in her eyes,
how she curled up inside him
in bed at night, stealing his warmth
… when she spoke his name
|