Stuff

A hanging bicycle
the sleeve of a coat
the chopping block by the woodpile
the woodpile
a motorcycle
a car with no doors
an unfinished model boat
car doors
a pile of papers on the counter
a pile of papers on a table
a pile of papers on another table
on another counter
on a desk
on the floor
on any convenient ledge
dishes in the sink
paperbacks in piles
clothes at the end of the bed
socks and underwear on the rug
shoes in the living room
guitars and their cases
amps and toys and wire
boxes
appliances that have no homes
haunted hearts
bones of old lovers
pictures of relatives just born
pictures of relatives newly dead
pictures of relatives as children
as young adults
as those about to die
hours on the clock
someone else’s work

It is all in the way
catching at my sleeve
tugging at my heart
clawing at my mind
as I try to clear a space in my life
for who I might be                           if I can just make                    room

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About Jim Stewart

Writer at Butt in Chair
This entry was posted in Aging, memory, Poem, Reprint, Slice of Life and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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