POETRY FRIDAY: Emptying the Apartment

Loose pentameters with a limited, inverted rhyme scheme across stanzas.

Emptying the Apartment
By Steven Withrow

We take apart my bookshelves and your stack
Of photo albums on the floor. These bare
Accoutrements of years, which give the table
By our kitchen, where we ate, the glamour
Of an antiques dealer’s booth—a square
Of yellowed quilting cloth, a silver plaque
Commemorating some event, a hammer,
Chalk pastels, a frayed coaxial cable—

Are still-life props arranged to look unstable,
Syllables that jar a gentle grammar,
Cartoon figures inked with spotted blacks
To stand askew. We count what’s left, aware
That final tallies can’t be made. Your camera
Catches me affixing one last label
On a box of wedding gifts. Cold air
Waits at the door. We're gone, not coming back.

Copyright 2011 by Steven Withrow. All rights reserved.