Written by R. Jay Hoffman
The mop in the corner of my basement laundry
was left 30 years ago, along with a bucket,
Rusted and discolored by a cobwebby dust,
The pile of clothes
Ten years old
Is weighed down
With moisture
And must
The landing at the bottom of the stairs
Is chipping away in cursive layers
Towards the lonely laundry machine
And the coats on hooks along the stairs —
It’s been long since they knew their last wear
When vanity once shook with color that gleamed
There are shoes, boots, and slippers
Paid for more than was given
Worn and torn effortlessly
Their presence balances an equation
I will draw and paint
these things one day
They are priceless
Text © R. Jay Hoffman
*
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Thank you.
nice, just nice,
Drager