thing grief

I do a little double dutch with
loathing
hating myself then
loving then hating then
loving then 

hating then
loving then landing
on something about solitude
and legacy
and longing

for the way my parents divided up the treasures 

of my childhood

the equation nearly always tipping sisterward

sent priority to St. louis

a simple algebraic study of

tensors, space

a quartz island, a basement for storing

my little alligator with the snapping jaws and

the German candle pyramid that 

mesmerized with its mystery flame wind

Oatmeal the bear a prince amongst dust bunnies

stuffed in a box

in the house that is too big and too fine

in the basement that floods

that will keep flooding 

sending

an end-times river of my favorite things 

drifting dreamily, nightmarishly

down pointer lane

and I am 4 and elated

and 34 and bereft

and 17 and certain

and 11 and scared

and confusing legacy with prophecy

maybe

and wanting to know to whom

and for when

and mostly where

I should leave

the fish dish and the oak duck

with the hollow bowl of a back

black silk coat of bearded irises

the luck cat who may or may not wave

when ink blots out the sun

the little star map of a lap quilt 

which might prove useful

and the smiling cumulus alarm clock 

that will stop keeping time

if or when the world

ends