i met
this man
who
appraised art, and furniture.
vases
and silverware.
all things old and of value.
estate sales
filled his house.
the rug,
the lamp, the drapes, all
from somewhere else.
someone gone,
departed,
but leaving behind,
for his hands
to find a place
to stand,
to dust until once more
they shine.
and now he calls
once more,
his walls need help again.
so many nails removed,
the holes ready
for repair, for paint.
to make fresh
for something else to hang.
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