I’m not talking about the dog -- he stays,
Fetch was never my game anyway, but
I’m talking about the few dishes I brought,
Those things my grandmother left and
I brought along to play house, to play home,
There are the bookcases that fit the shape
Of rooms so well but are empty without me,
And there are a few other details I left:
My hours, my efforts, the things I thought,
And the things I assumed. I want my ghosts
To come along, to pack up all they can and
Follow me out to the car, down the road,
Follow me like the children we never had,
Children who now choose to live with me.
J. K. Durick is a writing teacher at the Community College of Vermont and an online writing tutor. His recent poems have appeared in Decades Review, Jellyfish Whispers, Third Wednesday, and Up the River.