Since the end of summer
furniture, clothing, clocks,
old board games, computers
new and old plus TV sets
have been shuffled or
carried upstairs and down
from attic to both basements
as I watched, saving
attached memories and stories
Nothing was sacred or safe
until I claimed the right
of last refusal, which
mere months later transformed
into the next generation
looking for things wanted
from the past, from childhood,
Nintendo controllers, cameras
from before they were born
Then I joined the parade
cleaning and moving beds,
chairs, tables, plants,
paintings, prints, dressers
not dusted or cleaned
if I'm honest, for years
which led to three ways
to really clean thirsty
and stained antique wood
Armed with steel wool,
abrasive toothpaste, soft
old t-shirts and assorted
lemon oil products plus
used tea bags, tackling
one table first, my former
bed stand, the grain lost
under grime, under water
stains of life falling
Apart, now rebuilding
one thing at a time despite
the dependency hell that
disturbs my slumber and
my waking hours when
the light incandescent
or natural through distorted
drafty windows plays tricks
across the room like piano keys
Highlighting the warmth
of wood thankful, of wood
asking for more, such simple
requests, my hands trembling
my hands with splinters
nicked with blood, coaxing
new life from old, I find
myself asking for forgiveness
the answer oh so lemony.
IN