When my things began creeping at the foot of my bed

I started keeping things by my pillow

And when I stepped off my bed the books I hadn’t read were stacked to my knees the letters friends had written me poked out underneath

My medals hung off the side of the wardrobe with the rosaries I kept in case I should believe

The rows of bottles I used to sustain myself collect dust

Half-checked to-do lists lie in wait


With this many fresh starts, my head begs for clear endings,

not the ambiguity of things, but the clarity of nothingness.


The day I emptied everything out I thought my house would look different

Thought if I expelled things and people that did not feel mine

I would be free

In the end all it is is space

And what if it never fills again

What if all that is left are walls

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