I visit church sales
Stock up my case at the antique mall
Take drives
Watch movies with my kids.
I pull short, rusty nails
From the floorboards of the back porch
Amused to find they hold
Scraps of old newspaper
In place.
I remember
In the middle of the night
He used to whisper
I love you
In my ear.
At the estate sale today
In the beautiful old house
With the built-ins
And the endless basement rooms
Where I picked up a print of
Whistler’s Mother for eight bucks
And an electric drill for another ten,
And explained to Piper what some of the old tools were for
I couldn’t help but wonder:
Who went first?
Did she go suddenly,
Leaving him to eat sandwiches for dinner
And spend most of his time
In his garage full of power tools?
Or did they depart together
Just days or weeks apart?
Her wedding dress and veil
Were for sale
In the attic
Where I found Whistler’s Mother
Along with their bowling balls.
I’ve been dreaming
In Technicolor
Again.
by Julie Blue 