Inheritance of Junk

Six months and the air in the spare room

is finally starting to move again.

In the back of the closet,

behind the winter coats she didn't need,

I found the Tupperware.

Hundreds of used rubber bands,

and pens that ran out of ink

during the Carter administration.

I picked one up and pulled.

It snapped against my palm

and left a dry, white mark.