Wednesday, November 30, 2005

That Last-Day Poem Habit....

Abandoned Wardrobe

Half a generation ago, in another household,
I wore hand-me-ups from my youngest brother,
taller with much more stature than I.
Today our son is living the first year of college
the entire length of a highway
and two hours away.
And now I wear the clothes he left behind
in his closet, unwanted,
another set of hand-me-ups.

No wonder I get their names mixed up,
and slip into calling my son,
my brother.

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