First, throw in heaps of leotards and tights,
Piles of pointe shoes and old band aids.
Follow that with boxes
and boxes full of shiny,
         rainbow colored dance costumes.
Then stacks of bills for the cortisone shots
that saved arthritic hips.

Boil away all traces of emotion,
     No one likes a soup salted with painful memories.

Add a pinch of the cash father sent every month
just to keep mother off his back.

Allow a glance at family pictures
where everyone is smiling before they get thrown into the ***,
Mixing with the remnants to create a strange soup.

A deck of cards next, I think, with some Kibi
     for a Middle Eastern flair.

Now turn down the heat so that lovely burning boil becomes just a simmer of anger and
Go find the crates of things better left unsaid.

Rummage through the
“OFF LIMITS” box,
pull out the nightgowns Uncle loved too much
and throw those in as well,

                                                                       Just for fun.