Sunday, March 8, 2015

the next parade

the stamp collection
in the attic.
the books, the postcards.
the photographs,
medals, and letters.
all the confetti of his
decorated life
that rained down
over the years.
now trash.
now forgotten, pulled
out in bags
by strangers, trying
to clean, to paint,
to make the house right
for the next parade.
of life.

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