photo: ralph murre
CLOSURE
by
Jude Genereaux
The
house stood dark through winter’s snow
her
name on the mail box
bannered
life within
but the house stayed dark
through
cold and ice and springtime rain
‘til
hyacinths
daffodils announced renewal;
but
the house stayed dark.
Come
June, strange cars lined the drive
a
great green steel bin appeared quiet
people
walked to it, discarding
broken
bits of the past
tossing
old chairs, spindly legs askew
sticking
straight up (a signal for rescue?)
tables
unworthy of saving, relics and
furniture
no longer wanted
into
the bin
while the house stayed dark.
Crackling
with heat in the pre-summer sun
smoke
plumed from a barrel as
people
(her family?) relentlessly
fed
the flames; fire devoured
the
stuff of a quiet life
Discarded
papers, shopping lists?
books
and old journals? (love letters?)
the
air thick with the sweet incense of musty
burning
paper
words
of love? lust and longing?
O!
the hidden lives languishing in boxes
old
desks and cupboards filled with words
Memory!
crackling
in the fires of Absolution
honeyed
smoke fragranced by life;
Just
… trash.
Your
secrets are safe old woman
they have saved you
no
one will ever know your life
Your
honor and theirs
protected.
And
the house stays dark.
~
previously published in There Is More Than One Door
(The Looner Press)
