To the Thrift
The appliances must go—we never used them:
the giant stand mixer, the crock pot, the processor
with its scimitar blades. I’ll keep the little chopper
to shred carrots for my meatloaf and my beans.
Old clothes go in the bag: tee shirts with logos
from concerts long ago; jeans, two sizes too small.
Your disco shirt, rotted to a rope, tossed. My flannel shirt
that you wore until today—I’ll wear it now, again.
Furniture, too, can go. I don’t need the extra seat
in the TV room, nor the big table where we ate.
I don’t need so big a bed. But when I walk the yard,
I’ll want your bench still there, for when my legs give way.
© David Milley
David Milley’s recent work appears in Third Wednesday, RFD Magazine, Friends Journal, Capsule Stories, and Feral. David lives in southern New Jersey with his husband and partner of forty-eight years, Warren Davy, who’s made his living as a farmer, woodcutter, nurseryman, auctioneer, beekeeper, and cook. These days, Warren tends his garden and keeps honeybees. David walks and writes.
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