Monday, August 8, 2016

Dead Mother's Place

Dead Mother's Place

They sold everything in their mother’s summer
Place to me.
I bought everything in their dead mother’s
Summer place.
They were “glad to be rid of it” they said
When I paid them.

The oriental rugs on the boathouse floor.
The oil paintings hanging in the horse stalls in
The barn.
A broken Tiffany floor lamp
In the upstairs’ hall closest.

“You can see all the islands from here.”
“My mother kept it that way.”
“That was her desk over there.”
“This is where the servants lived.”

Most of the silver was taken in the robbery
Except for the dinner soon lying between
The granite stones of the front steps.
I took that for my collection.

Several family members wanted
The painting
Of the ship at sea
In the storm.

They “didn’t want the memories”
In boxes stacked behind, before
 Down under
And up above – in the back.

They screeched when the
Bats flew in the attic
The water had been turned off
So no one could wash their hands.

“Can you?”
“How soon?”
And “All of it?”
“You want all of it?”

“So much of it is trash.”
“Our plane is on Friday morning.”
“My sister doesn’t want that
after all.”

I promised myself I wouldn’t
Show too much interest,
But I did bring three trucks
For the first three loads.

They wanted to help
But got tired and dirty
And hungry and hot
And Itchy and stabbed through

By the
Ghost bitch devil
Scratching and clawing
In their brains.

“Feel guilty.” They said
And wanted to
Wash their hands
And “be rid of it”.

1 comment:

  1. Piercing it not just to the bone, but sliding it right on through - masterful!