Wednesday, November 1, 2023

her stash in the rafters

as i twist
the knob to the outside water,
hoping
that the pipes
won't freeze,
i remember
how she used to hide
her cigarettes
and lighter
up there 
in the dusty rafters of
the laundry room
where the pipes
run to the back
of the house.
there's a pint of southern
comfort too.
i've left everything there.
her doctor told her not
to smoke,
not to drink because
of her heart, but she didn't care.
it was so long ago,
since she died.
nearly twenty years.
but the water
is off again
as Christmas nears.

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