Poetry

The Stand

Standing there as it had for so long
It seemed as if the stand in the corner
Should have lasted forever

But the new makes things old
So I sat down to disassemble
The structure of this history

At first I carefully unloaded
The precious tchotchkes
That had collected over the years

Then sat down to unscrew
The bare skeleton of trusts
That held together our nostalgias

How easily it came apart
A snide turn of a screw
The unintentional wrench of a nut

And then the stand, and all the dreams it held
Lay in pieces at my feet
And I sought some place for the memories
That lay dusty, about me.