that aren’t even opened.
I filled them up and sealed them
ten or twenty years ago,
or maybe more. I can’t remember.
They don’t have any labels
and they don’t seem to be stacked
in any order. All I know
is that they had some value
or I never would have saved them.
And each box holds a part of me,
a little bit of history,
and as the years pile up
I’m not inclined to let them go.
I’ve got shelves along my walls
but most of them are empty
and waiting to be used.
I put them up the other day
with the impetuous intention
of organizing things
to get rid of the clutter
that surrounds me. Anyway
I’ll have some room to walk now,
as soon as I get started,
except this next step seems to be
the hardest step to take for me:
to pick my life up off the floor
and put it on display.
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