Don’t Be Afraid To Cry

A large room with a window
Could have been a bedroom
Floor cluttered with shirts
New, men’s sport shirts
With designer logos
On left, chest pockets
Logos, of a Southwest
Native American talisman
Slow parade of unfamiliar
Men, of all persuasions
Came and went
Helped themselves
To expensive garments
From the window
My father’s face–reflected
Disappointment, sadness

 

Clutter Clearinghouse

Home Shopping Network–QVC
Bazaars, yard sales, closeout sales
One-of-a-kind Items, as-seen-on-TV
Tactile, pleasant-textured items
Gently stroked, then taken home
Stored away in attics and garages
Remedies to drive away aches, pains
General malaise of everyday life struggles
Wasn’t as much about winning
As, not wanting to lose

Old King Coal

Mountains shoveled
Smelled of sulfur
Soot, stained insides
Outsides of everything
Who still knew
How to bank a fire
So it lasted till morning?
Mine tailings, shafts
Abandoned, concrete filled
Subsidence from
Collapsed timbers
Scars, both seen and unseen
What was left
From when coal was king?
No coal, no industrial revolution
Answered, Old King Coal