Re-shuffling Loss

shadows loom

over another loop

a balance between womb or doom

across woven, complex, delicate lines

within the infinite tapestry of time

as mannequins shadow candlelight

stumbling over scattered bones

ghosted on the river of wrong

& wasted last chances gone.

 

So too, was the  last book collected

 chess pieces sorted

divided items selected

boxing airless dream bubbles

with no more mind games to play.

For every part of this precious tragedy

they played their parts with tortured hearts

beginning the end of their pawn shop shuffle of separation

… all while the scratched record played the permanence of all the things

their love never got to say.

 

 

 

Once Lived In.

Individual items picked. Studied. It’s future to be decided.

Choose left to keep? Right to toss? Centre to sell?

Out-of-date, broken remnants unearthed.

Remembrances resurfaced and retained.

Boxed. Labelled. Stacked. Carried.

An uncluttered cavity created.

It echoes loud silence.

Front door locked.

Family relocated.

Only the unshifting shell remains.

(50 words)

There’s this guy who wrote messages underneath kitchen drawers as his secret farewell memento in houses he’d once occupied. Others have scratched names on trees, initialled wet cement, and children’s growth marks have been left inconspicuously on door frames.

What secret mark have you ever left in a previously lived-in dwelling?

 

from the Flash Fiction collection HOME SWEET NOT

HSN TW2

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