Poem 25: small spaces

Napowrimo Prompt: "write a poem that explores a small, defined space – it could be your childhood bedroom, or the box where you keep old photos. It could be the inside of a coin purse or the recesses of an umbrella stand. Any space will do – so long as it is small, definite, and meaningful to you."

*

Closeted

Purses spill from the hooks,

mingle with tumbled shoes, boots,

bags of knitting needles and empty

cellphone boxes,

pants hang on tiered racks

shoved against the back wall

and shirts fall from hangars to

tangle with random skirts 

(flotsam from another room),

yoga jackets, blazers with

rolled sleeves, a ring bristling

with belts, more shoes

in a sagging canvas rack

shoved toes in, spilling shadows

against the four plastic drawers

filled with bunched shorts,

scarves, crocheted hats,

technological gizmos strayed

from misplaced or broken devices,

a rickety punkwood 

set of shelves

holding two more rows 

of expensive tumbled shoes,

the whole mess holding its

breath under the weight

of abandoned boxes and 

yellow magazines,

secrets 

mixed with remnants,

my life with previous lives,

unknown wearers

and future inhabitants,

the entire jostling history

pushing like epiphany

(or a strange graveyard

where the living lie down

along the dead)

against my naked body

with the weight of
all the days its taken

to get here, to stand

alone and unclothed

in front of its
open door.