Show boxes hold no more shoes
But love letters, still unopened
Dust blankets pillow coverings
Unobstructed and undisturbed
The bulbs are out and it is dark
Except where the sun pulls bent
Breaths through windows cracks
For open mouths of quiet chests
The toys remain unplayed with
And the books stack themselves
Particles partake in pilgrimage
From the armchair to lampshade
Seeking something slumber eternal
Otherwise, nothing moves here:
Shoe boxes hold no more shoes
But love letters, still unopened.
-JC
About this poem
The original title for this poem was "The Attic." I wanted to tell a story purely based on the objects in a space, and an attic felt like a great place to tell one. The line, "Shoe boxes hold no more shoes," was the first thing I wrote down, and the rest of the poem developed from there. Looking back, I think that this poem is telling a sad story, a tragedy, about a love that never flourished.