What used to matter
Hangs damp in cold room
Thin at neck, gravity urging shape
To stretch uneven and gnarled by neglect.
What used to matter
Is a stain that isn’t removed by washing, even on high
A partial magnet on fridge, without part that gave meaning
Just an outline, take a guess; bird or city, resort or wise crack
We fill in what nolonger makes sense, with the dried impatience of ninety year olds
Unable to return volley.
What used to matter
Lies between us at night, tossing and turning
If we were milk, we’d spoil before first light
But you were always practical, rinsing bottles the night before
If you’d been a typewriter you’d have made a perfect sound at the end of each sentence
ding
You take out the old and bring in the new
I’m reminded of lamps, one shiny, one tarnished
And your face, free of regret, is smooth as avocado forest
But if I tell you, we’ll go round and round, quips about green skin
And eventually sing Kermit’s song; It’s not easy being green
I know this before you’ve even moved, to rid us of silence
That has grown like icicles, betwixt our garden
So it is I, who unlatches back door and places
What used to matter
Out for recycling.
Early morning hands will whisk away
All those spoilt emotions
And sun will dapple our lawn with fresh light
I figure, it’s the start
Of doing things differently
And I climb the stairs
Back to you

17 Replies to “Back to you”

  1. I like the somewhat melancholy acceptance of matters that you have captured here. Better the devil you know? Perhaps. Trouble is no-one ever knows for sure. Well crafted writing.

  2. The interchanging here from light-hearted to sad to “this just is what it is and I’m gonna be content” is remarkable throughout the poem. My favorite lines:
    “What used to matter
    Lies between us at night, tossing and turning
    If we were milk, we’d spoil before first light
    But you were always practical, rinsing bottles the night before
    If you’d been a typewriter you’d have made a perfect sound at the end of each sentence
    ding”
    Splendid. Peace, Candice.

  3. To me this speaks of loss and grief… and the echoes of shared history resounding in every corner.
    I’m taking this one to accompany my work day. I’ll have to reread it again tonight.

  4. This felt like you were slowly putting a heavy comforter over me as I lay on the couch where I had fallen asleep in a cold room…. 🙂
    You are always a comfort dear sis… xx love

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