Underneath Bed

Nooks
and crannies
and corners
and cracks

in

any closet
or crawl space
or octagon table
brown
with left swinging door
or boudoir
left untouched
virginal
unscatched

were spaces
she found

barefoot
oversized sun dress
like painter's smock
over skin pale
untouched by sun
yet
sun kissed from
a sandy school yard
a dried-out lawn
a jagged 'scape.


Found it
she did

on her birthday
in April late.


A hat box
hexagonal
bow out of ribbon pink
sheen dark magenta skin
no label
no sign
no picture of rose
or lyric in prose;

Didn't matter
the lock
one loop pulled
lid set free

so she picked
and peeked
and plucked
the contents three:

old cassette tapes
hand scrawled T.O.C.
smileys and winks
next to long lost songs;

the jane austen journal
hand-scrawled with color pencils
a sonnet, a sorry, a seance
poetic pics of older days;

a population copy worn
pages loosed and leafed
from lingual pick-up truck artists
in a cross-country drive.



She didn't know

this untold narrative
'tween mom and dad.



Or really

the left behind lover
mom never dared whisper.