In the Conservatory
Fifty-two boxes goad,
“need unpacking” I mutter
to watching walls - this clutter
collected from five years
living in Birmingham:
books,
photographs,
mementos,
handbags,
shoes...
flashbacks of whirlwind
romances; cranky colleagues;
illness which lasted months - all
crammed away in storage boxes
brown stacked on brown,
reminding me of boxed
sub-world existences:
prisons
boarding schools
nursing homes
psych wards
like yolk within albumen
I am unable to begin to unpack
the memories,
for whatever reason I want
them to stay in the yellow.
Catherine Mark
2 comments:
This is a poem I can well understand. I have boxes too.
You are doing great with the poem a day challenge.
There are memories best left unpacked, :)
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