Poems

Her Closet

The closet is musty with cold mildew.
The cut-rate carpenter glued sheets of plywood
to the concrete block foundation with no
penny of thought for insulation or worse.

Glue hardens instantly in Oklahoma wind
and the gaps appear, moisture dripping in.
Carpet breeds green blobs, cotton dresses
filling with the thick damp odor of acorns. Continue reading “Her Closet”