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moving day
by Kristina Woodhillthe movers
arrived today
thank you, lord!
that poker faced
game of grim
january has been
hosting
in this dank basement
just broke up
and the gloved men
have come
for it all
the passé
gray drapes dropped
from weeks
of cold rot
deep folds,
concealing
new year's
last best toast,
have shaken loose,
sneezing resolutions
and odd plastic
bits of pretty
pretty masks.
faces up!
blue
shines through,
today
slap the tape
on those boxes
the northwesterly
is whipping
bottom edges
of Arizona Highway calendars
and the back-up
warning light
and beep, beep
beep sweet music
are tapping
out the count
to thirty one
01/27/2009
Posted on 01/28/2009
Copyright © 2025 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 01/28/09 at 02:13 AM You seem excited about it. I wish a you good move. I've move so many times in the past few years I can't keep track any more. And I hate moving. I hate lifting boxes. But each time I move I get rid of something. But I refuse to get rid of my books and my music. One needs something to hang onto until the very end. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 01/28/09 at 08:37 AM This poem, by meter, has a "moving forward", "sweep up the old, throw it away, and make room for the new" feel to it. |
| Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 01/28/09 at 09:08 AM Ok, you maybe you're moving, but don't get that confused with progress! Ha! Good one. "bottom edges of Arizona calendars" that's great! Thanks. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 01/31/09 at 04:07 PM Excellent descriptiveness in reflection of the title Kristina. I can hear those calendar pages flipping in the wind of my mind. |
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