The Estate

The pantry still smells like cinnamon and dust.

I found a bag of flour folded over twice,

a grocery list from a Tuesday that didn't happen,

and a pair of reading glasses by the sink.

They are sitting on a bill for the water,

next to a mug with a ring of dried tea.

The silence is a physical weight in the hall,

making me apologize to the empty chairs

every time I move a box toward the door.