the attic box marked done

I place
all the things I have forgotten

and the things
I remember but no longer

need
in my mind

into a box, marked done.

no date, no explanation.
just one word.

done.
which says it all.

I find the deepest part of
the attic

where the cobwebs
have layered
their traps in fine woven

webs. and say, good.
perfect.

I slide the box in, shut
the ceiling door and climb down.

wiping clean my hands
of the whole

ordeal.