Hazel Tides
A Poem About Tidying Old Paperwork and Photographs
I put on my apron and got the dustpan
Brought the mop and made a plan
To clean my attic
scare my spiders, secret closet hiders
the wary wicked within.
dusted my ceilings — mopped my floors,
washed my walls — oiled the doors
But of course
Near the end, the dust is stirred
the air is fresh,
but what is that there in the cabinet,
by the desk?
…
A stray photograph.
smiles like they’re not sure if it’s their birthday or yours
We stare at each other, not a contest, but rather
a falling
into the hazelnuts of their eyes
Swim out of mine
I have lost something in the river today
two round brown pebbles
flip them over
I am crying in my mother’s arms and my grandmother loves me because I look like her mother folded up a letter written on fallen leaves and hung it in my pupils
