27 February 2011


Presser 2/27

I remember shelves locked behind glass
dishes leafed in gold in silver
in tangled leaves and flowers

The kind of thing you see at rummage sales
in the backs of Goodwill on QVC late at night
“The good china”

Grandmother would always say
would look over my shoulder into the case
the stories floating out into the room

And then the cuckoo clock would go
need to be wound and all
that history would suddenly pull into her

The sun would set fire to the yard and
reflections would hide the shelves in light

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