A few days away from the task of goodbye–
home, but not home, my mind still busy
with what must come, what must be done.

This new goodbye still ahead, protracted,
one slow step after slow step. There have been
too many in my life.

The clock ticks, the world turns, a strawberry
moon rises in the sky, June will meld inevitably
into the heat of July.

Just now, sunlight falls on mother’s childhood
table, the one I toted home along with so much
else. Great-grandmother’s sewing box here, but

obsolete. Grandmother’s Kodak Brownie I’ll put
on the mantle beside the cracked, black baby shoe.
The sturdy wire egg basket may find another use.

Today, I will pause, walk along the swollen Ohio,
watch debris from other lives float past. There’s only
so many things we can carry from one life to the next.

I leave you the barest words, daughters, and the
rainbow memories of your

brother’s hanging shirts.