Deprived by his wife’s absence, grieving guts
My father. The cremation over now,
Her ashes urned and glowing with repose,
Inspection of her closet is the next
Unmaking, contents intimate, perfumed.

Attired in nightgowns longer than a year,
My mother needed nothing stored inside:
Complacent church clothes, pastel linen sheaths,
Insomniacal slingback heels, upright,
Attentive, waiting for the toll of tread,
Accessories forgotten, unloved, cold.

Sharp hangers await uninvited guests,
Prepared to scar. Should caretakers encroach,
Conspirators rise: boucle knits scratching,
Steel eye-hooks, belts resisting, stuffy air
Redolent of her scent almost forcing
The trespasser to leave belongings there,
Mourned privately by what caressed her skin,
The nude audacity of death dismissed
As long as things remain, her door pulled shut.