The Movers

Ayli Lapkoff

buckle-kneed and taut-jawed
the movers clumsily
rattle (my flimsy flesh-and-blood box)
its essential contents-
vital possessions i must
cling to fiercely, my savings;
all i have.

hated movers, dreaded movers,
labouring over stacks of
blessedly forgotten photographs,
probing attics infested
by the stench of mothballs,
questioning (the locked
medicine cabinet),
using and discarding

putting nothing back where they found it
putting Nothing back where they found It?

again i'm petrified
(of leaving my crumbling
familiar house)
paralyzed in place,
utterly unable to
shut the drapes, bolt the doors.

This is fragile, breakable:
must be handled with care.

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