Unburdening

Except when moving from one 

house, or apartment, or home

into another, 

I never feel the unbearable weight 

of things.

When they’re in boxes,

they only weigh

on my thoughts.

Only when the contents are packed away

in the attic, closets, counters, cupboards,

drawers of dressers, hung on hooks, on shelves,

and under beds,

I bear less of that burden,

but still feel crowded, cluttered.

But when the garbage men come in the morning,

like Scrooge, transformed from his travels, 

I want to throw open the sash

and throw things down.

Here!

I don’t need these mementos,

these clothes, these books, these dishes.

I can browse them whenever I want.

I have their negatives 

on my mind.