Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Garage Sale
I sold her bed for a song. A song of yearning
like an orphan’s. Or the one knives carve into bread.
But the un-broken bread song too. For the song rivers
sing to the ferryman’s oars — with that dread in it.
For a threadbare tune: garroted, chest-choked,
cheap. A sparrow’s, beggar’s, a foghorn’s call.
For the kind of song only morning can slap on love-
stained sheets — that’s what I sold my mother’s bed for.
The one she died in. Sold it for a song.
—
From A New Hunger by Laure-Anne Bosselaar, published by Ausable Press, copyright 2007 Laure-Anne Bosselaar. Reprinted by permission of the author.
Wow! That was a garage sale l wish l saw the sign for. Must have been hard to put a price on the bed. Oh— it brings up so much pain and sadness. I love garage, tag sales and flea markets. Unlike
Chain stores, every item has a story.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you — and yes, that bed had a story. Alas, a sad one…
LikeLike