Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Joe Barca

There’s a certain heartbreak in clothes
that lay folded too neatly, in a wardrobe
that’s missing an owner, in a ghost that
inhabits a closet.

He lives in a home that is wounded. The
floorboards are quietly weeping. He is half
of a couple, holding a yard sale for a heart
that is needy.

Now and then he sees his wife in the face
of a stranger. He hears her voice on the
answering machine and it lingers. And he
has too many casseroles stacked in his
freezer.

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