Low Clearance

I went down for a sock and found the past

trapped in a grocery bag under the springs.

It’s funny how the things you think won't last

become the heaviest of all your things.

Your old boots are stiff with a crust of salt,

wrapped in plastic to keep the carpet clean.

Finding them now feels like a personal fault,

a piece of a life that shouldn't be seen.

The dust bunnies have built a grey little nest

around the heels you wore until they broke.

I should throw them out and let the rest

go up in a cloud of radiator smoke.