Unpacking Mother's Things
Her wedding picture’s with the recipes
for meatloaf. Months before Mother died
she saved this lock, but kept unmatching keys.
This purse holds rings and tokens. Like a tease,
a box within a box, tucked safe inside,
her wedding picture’s with the recipes.
She loved to cook. Now, here’s a bunch of peas,
some lentils and a sprig of parsley, dried.
She saved this lock, but kept unmatching keys
all sorted by some system based on threes,
perhaps, or color. Logic is defied:
her wedding picture’s with the recipes
and here’s a broken comb and two dead bees,
a postcard of a mule with boy astride.
She saved this lock, but kept unmatching keys
while autumn headed for its first hard freeze
and she put mind and memory aside.
Her wedding picture’s with the recipes
she saved and locked, and kept unmatching keys.
poem by Taylor Graham
Added by Poetry Lover
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