Author Information
Move
Folder:
other stuff I stood
like a crumbled column
after a quake
the mess
in your wake.
A mess to relocate, again.
Like boxes in the bed
of a pickup truck,
not packed down
rumbles with every bump.
My possessions,
like my emotions,
thrown.
Tossed to the lions pillow
of what used to be my bed.
Boxes like wishes
slammed to the back,
with every sudden stop.
What lies on top?
Just the raw skinned layer
of rug burns that serve
as the tourist’s souvenir
of where we used to be.
The vacation I though was home
now
shatters with the silverware,
and the screech of seasoned movers.
I only have one hand left
to lift
the lid
off of the truth
to see it spill like guts
from the racks of the truck
to another destination
another closet
another bed
another fascination
packing away the one
who crumbled in the quake.
