Grandma Closet Memory

Those dead minks with the holes where the eyes went
They were both eaten in closets in the sixties right?
Do you remember those moth balls and the hat boxes?
I am going through an old memory of grandma’s closet.

It was crazy dark back in there; it felt like mice were lurking.
I remember the old person smells of stinky perfume.
And grandpa’s cologne. We played under the racks.
It was a time of discovery; I was a pirate in there.

I miss this sometimes. My closet is not half as lovely.
I especially miss putting my fingers in and out of the eye holes
Of those stiff smelly dead minks with the fur that was molting.
Why she kept these I do not know. Possibly were her mother’s?
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace