Flotsam (above photo)
In response to Prompt #1: Boxes, on the newly opened We Write Poems:
When I Moved
I moved on a Sunday
and there was
clutter and confusion,
boxes of dishes,
shoes and belts and purses,
a set of silver spoons,
copper-bottomed pans,
stacks of books,
lamps and chairs,
mason jars and light bulbs,
the jumble of my life
packed into cardboard cartons
with fold-back lids.
That night we celebrated
with beer and pizza and music.
Outside my new window
the crescent moon shone
like a curled eyelash
against the dark face of the sky.
