this house is coming soon

a few years after

the wife died, the old

man is finally wheeled out to some

rest home

in the far reaches

of the county.

at 97 he's finally done.

it's oatmeal time

from here on out, fed

by little spoons.

the boxes

of fifty

years are carted up

the stairs,

the attic and all rooms

cleared of

frayed

furniture,

broken tables,

silverware never used.

dust heavy drapes

are pulled from the windows.

thin mattresses

from high school

still on the floor

are carried out.

the cobwebs and secrets

in closets

are slowly removed.

the daughters,

now old and tired,

alone in their shrinking worlds,

arrive to take

what they want.

their own war chests of

victories

and wounds.

the house is gutted.

every inch is painted,

fumigated,

the floors stripped

and stained,

stoves and sinks,

bathrooms,

everything is new,

the outside too.

the tall shrubs, the weeds

dug up.

the drive way is paved

a black

that shines in the sun.

it's almost as if nothing

ever happened here.

all is gone.

a sign

is hammered into the yard.

coming soon.