The Auction House

There’s a dumpster

Outside your house today

And a crew of workers

Indifferent to their task

Sift through the detritus 

Of death’s remains

The things we do not want

And can not take away

Having already given away

to grateful homes

All that we could

And stored for your grandchildren

All that we should―

As you once did for us.

The counters covered

In dishes

Knickknacks and bric-a-brac

―Trash, in fact;

Pointless

But no less poignant―

We leave these things behind

For someone else

To free the ties that bind

―A crew of workers

Indifferent to their task

Sift through the detritus

Of death’s remains

All that remains

For us to do

To say goodbye to you.