Things from Her Attic by Ed Wickliffe


Things from Her Attic

Ed Wickliffe

“Welcome (Dolly’s banner would say)
Home, Darling”
But it went wrong over Sicily

down
          dwn—

Now her attic stairs she climbs one last time, she

          and he, on the left there, are looking
          maimed today in her tattered shoebox, yet

these musty photos (just three of him) still
           frame a cross-hairs of the time when.

                    And with his new flight
jacket on one shoulder, a sepia photo cracks
           again between her fingers.

                    Still
it is still
          a quiet minute plus sixty-three years
                    since, and the memories

mostly are here
          pulling a cobweb
               home

before the kids arrive.
          They come up from Mobile, you know,
                    unlocking doors, taking

          photos for the estate sale and
bagging trash.

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