Packably speaking, mentally packing is arduous and
like its cousin, list-making, is easily crossed out and restarted.
Some of my kitchen utensils and overripe junk drawer quiver
in anticipation that they’ll be finding new places to disappear
when most needed and reappear, straight-faced.
The comedy of errors that is the printer table, a repurposed
television cart, hosts an orgy of discarded magazines.
Other hideables and tuck-aways will be handled finally and firmly
with the brusqueness they should have received originally.
All those socks, all those socks, and his watch
in need of a battery remain in the open, packably speaking.
My error, a comedy with no test audience, was to procrastinate
painting that antique dresser, which looks more and more
like something I’ll see on someone else’s Instragram.
Beckoning still is a basement, forbidding and dank,
daring me to turn my list into action.
Fantastic poem! Very candid, vivid and relatable. Your word choice is very precise, and the sounds they make in combination are harmonious and decisive, which is interesting considering the feeling of indecision that sometimes shows up when trying to figure out what to do with all of one’s stuff. The first two lines got my attention, and every couplet after held it. This is awesome!
Thank you, Abena. I wasn’t sure about the repeated lines, but I can cross “tried a gigan” off my list, too!