Once a room for righting things

once a room for righting things
now the room off the back

the door brasses chilled
by your winter passings.

shut like a noticeboard
you tilted off-centre
in case you might forget.

a space in the mind you
meant to throw open, one day.

the key hung up,
threaded on a vine
of all things grown wild

ambitions draped over
like furniture.  

the desktop beneath

receipts,
ticket stubs
wrappers

your shallow grave