Like someone else's mother's button box not quite the same and these lingering threads and grime are they not just a little repulsive? Not meaningful their stories missing such as my favourite big blue button off Sandra's coat that never got sewn back on and where is the real bone and abalone mother-of-pearl and early bakelite and look at this disgusting cloth-covered nub off a suspender belt my God the things some folks keep! And this absurd picture of Scottie dogs disgracing a toffee tin our classy shortbread box- lid portrayed a Gainsborough velvet boy I remember days of her sorting through possessions as she prepared to enter her final home from home she sifted slow with crabbed fingers that never more would stitch and preoccupied with beds and chairs I let her say farewell and ditch them all with many ornaments rattling to the landfill bin and I regret that now and forever since catching myself at frowsty stalls and charity shops purveying bric-à-brac hovering over other people's lost small fortunes of family collections but it's never quite the same.
About the Author
Clive Donovan devotes himself full-time to poetry and has published in a wide variety of magazines including Agenda, Fenland Poetry Journal, Neon Lit. Journal, Prole, Sentinel Lit. Quarterly and Stand. His debut collection will be published by Leaf by Leaf in November 2021.
