Retirement

    by Kathryn Jacobs
			

He stacked his life in boxes on the curb,
sprinkled with chicken bones and ticket-stubs,
and puffed. “An exercise in letting go”
he postured hopefully –  so out of breath
that you could tell he let go long ago,
and this was more an exercise of arms.

Two room’s full: class-notes, book reviews, old forms
he’ll never open...Call it seizing space
from tenants who forgot to pay the rent.
Or maybe memories go moldy too.
Some of us wondered what the man had left,
they fled so fast, so far, and took so much.