there are reasons why we don’t go in There.
cobwebs of old tunes, lost lyrics, memories
seldom forgotten, but remembered, with
much trepidation. those dark corners are
reserved for days when the rain falls, or
the days when the lonely leaves call,
or the days when the sand vanishes
from beneath my feet – sucked out to sea
by the fingerless waves. we simply do not
go in There. unless we choose to close
the door behind us and let the creaking hinges
do their work. memories flash like a snow
storm of Polaroids. all is dark save the
green glow of my watch. sending the
tiniest sparks of light bouncing off of
your eyes, somewhere out there, in the
dark of the closet. we pressed a towel
up against the floor to snuff out any
unwanted beams. we don’t want to
see while we are in here. the hanging
coats would bring memories alive. and
those would bring pain. so rather, we huddle
against the back wall, last winters garments
tickling our foreheads as we hover over
the green Indiglo watch i bought last summer.
last summer, when the floor boards all
fell apart, and we had to rebuild this
house from the dirt up. all of it brand
new, except for this dark closet. there
are reasons why we don’t go in There.
but on days like today, we do.