storage.

Last Tuesday

Justin’s mother arrived unexpectedly.

Justin’s mother arrived, rapping our door unexpectedly.

4pm, this is what happens.

Rhonda next door produced a key to our floor

where Justin’s mother sat

sipping tea

waiting

for

me

to get back.

The house smelt like her foulest mood and cinnamon. 

There is a wardrobe

she said, thumb and index finger meeting in circles.

There is a wardrobe and I’ve decided I feel you must have it.

No one in the family had wanted it because of its size.

(We have 5 keyboards and a piano. We were

slow saying no to Justin’s mother the day she was throwing

her husband away.)

This wardrobe had 13 secret draws rattling 13 separate times.

We couldn’t get it though the front door

on Rhonda’s roof tried windowing our way in.

Rhonda’s husband stood on their lawn in pale khakis

deeply unimpressed. But at us, not the widow. 

In the end we

had to ask a carpenter friend to saw our present problem down to size.

She (lady carpenter) said it was  

like nothing else she’d seen that  

it would hardly stand another dismantling.

I wanted to use all the left-over bits

so here, this is for you

a piece of someone you might miss

looking for a place to fit

call home. 

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