His To Claim Or Throw Away

This clean-up filled a garbage bag
of things which might have been,
a clutch of tender memories held

tight within her breast – wrong to
think of them as ‘things’ she tests
herself, wrong to label junk as

anything but junk, wrong to let them
sing in such a clear and strident voice.
It’s not denial of the past, she thought,

moving on means passed and gone;
memories, of course, remain. But
junk is not contained in memories

and things like these are causeless
scrap disdained. I’ll take them back
she vowed, my house is clean,

these were never mine to keep
I’ll let him see the reason why
they’re his to claim or throw away...
© 7 July 2007, I.D. Carswell