All the Skeletons are still Waving at me
Choosing curtains on Sunday
is not my luxury
My curtains insult me
with the age they carry,
worse than me
Choosing curtains,
couches and bathroom tiles
is another life
It was my Grandmother’s
It is my mother’s
I do not plan cruises
or original art
(unless it is mine,
assembled originally
from The Dollar Tree)
I made a haunted house tonight
from the scrapings of my attic
full of what will be displayed
for comfort’s sake
again and again
My life is a plastic bat
glued to a plastic leaf
glued to a piece of wood
All the skeletons
are still waving at me
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