Keeper of the House

Keeper of the House

Three generations
of lives spent in this house
catalogued by the items
abandoned to the attic:
tax bills from eluded payments
on the Poconos property
Grandpop bought;
the First Holy Communion portrait
of my murdered aunt,
the glass in the frame shattered;
my father's jewelry box,
the steelworkers' union pendant
adorned with an emerald
his birthstone;
a trunk from my sister Paula's college days,
dog-eared copies of Life for Me
Ain't Been No Crystal Stair
and White Privilege
tossed among sandals and tank tops;
three tarnished machetes
two in embroidered leather sheaths,
the owner
unknown.

Bags and boxes of hidden belongings
barely illumined
by the single lamp
hanging from a rafter.
And what of me, the current
keeper of the house?
What will the next
make of my too-many-bins
of Christmas decorations,
silk flowers and plastic garland
so much gold glitter;
a yellowed copy of the Courier News
dated September 12, 2001;
dust tumbled in cat hair
surrounding a grey slipper;
the little white knitted sweater and booties
for the baby
who never was.