Bone yellow light
from a forty watt bulb
warms stale air
and clings to the skin
of my funeral coat.

My starched cotton shirts
carry dust on their shoulders.
Hung on wire hangers they are
stiff highway markers
measuring miles,
from the time
I got married,
became an accountant
with a green Chevy Nova,
to now
as I stand
all alone,
an intruder
in search of the life
I once knew.

I sweep up the cobwebs.

My mahogany shoe trees
stretching brown wrinkles
from the eyes
of my wingtips.

The green paisley tie
I wore in Chicago,
draped over a hook
on the door.

My stained wisdom teeth,
sealed in a zip-lock,
tucked in a box
of childhood mementos,
placed high on a shelf
I can no longer reach.

Selected byNolcha Fox
Image credit:Nimble Made

I want my art and writing to have humility, to be clear and void of deception. I want my audience to see without distraction, to feel I have not wasted their time with pomposity. I want to create bold, clean images and write simple, declarative sentences that cause people to confront their humanity.