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Sonja Benskin Mesher
Poems
Sep 2013
289. the airing cupboard.
to air and store, to host
the mouse that eats the soap.
no longer . it is stored in tins,
now, even the chewed bits.
it left the government soap
alone, that just dried out slowly.
in the tidying we lost
the bandages and rattling threads,
found remembered handkerchiefs,
starched, boxed with pins.
oh joy of tidiness, so much could be
thrown, so much can be kept.
these are the falling days.
sbm.
Written by
Sonja Benskin Mesher
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