EMPTYING THE OLD FAMILY HOME

I was nestled – didn't know –
their portraits will be the last to go

Stuff keeps coming up – baby bottles
wine undrunk
a skirt with the tag
a journal, winterkill

I stray –
whiskers full of muffled pain
an empty house to match

nocturnal to enjoy

Until their deaths, I was nestled between two mountains

Now I can finally explore
how they wore
their mannerisms and sins –
my family home a habitat
that I dissect closely
and rearrange accordingly –
happy as a feral

– that basket with their
still smelling socks and underwear –

And the spiral streams
until I get newborn naked myself

free for the first time happy free free free