It was all there.
Unwanted trinkets of discernible grief.
Half-full bottles of Nina Ricci,
a kitten collar hollering
about death's ninth life removed,
still aching with its slithering like
rattlesnake post-mortem shakes.
Unmatched sets of china with gold leaf sand
on edges of their roughened lips.
Two heating pads without their cords.
Unopened tins of sugar cookies
meant to bring your taste buds songs.
A rickety trellis from patio slats--
skeletons without their ribs
starving for a breast of flowers.
Old garter belts and garden hats.
Rusted clocks and picture frames
with question marks of family
in dingy curled brown sepia.
New slippers in a plastic bag.
I wanted your feet, your sense of earth.

Spools of thread and mixing bowls.
A gravy boat with missing ladles of your hands.
Decks of cards without their Aces,
teapots, wind chimes of the Fall.
I wished you back--trading a dollar
for swallowed teeth.
But the tooth-fairy didn't show.
And issues weren't negotiable.
Half-burned candles aching
for a striking match. Aprons with
their broken strings in shapes
that fit around your waist.
The old mink stole
that kept your cat in happy land.
A shower cap with mold inside--
elastic stretched like aging flesh.
A bird cage with its hinges loose.
We couldn't weed the useless out.