Getting my head around it

It doesn’t look like this
on the inside.
The bit I use regularly
is neatly ordered;
shelves, cupboards and drawers
all carefully labelled
for ease of reference,
‘Skills’, ‘Techniques’
‘Knowledge’, ‘Poems’
‘Memories’ and so forth.
And the big, sealed, steel cabinet,
which houses
my autonomic nervous system,
hums gently in the corner.

Out back’s a different story. It goes on, seemingly, forever; I’ve never attempted to find the edge in case I fall over.

I think it’s all cupboards
(apart from the caves
where the nightmares lurk);
some bear remnants of labels,
but the keys are lost,
others are locked,
and bolted,
and barred…
trying to keep

Getting my head around it

what lies within,
within...
There are some very
dark corners.

With time, more stuff migrates
from the front to ‘out back’
and, I’ve a hunch
that one day
all I’ll be left with are;
the route to Mount Vernon,
The Sound of Music lyrics
and Hotspur’s speech on honour,
lying, carefully labelled,
on the shelf.