The Last Cabinet

The lawyer called to say the locks get swapped

on Friday at noon.

I’ve got six hours to turn this life

into a set of empty rectangles.

I found a bag of brown sugar

at the back of the pantry,

tossed there two years ago and forgotten.

I squeezed it and it didn't give—

it’s a solid brick now, a hardened sweetness

that I had to thud into the bottom of the trash.

All that’s left is one chipped mug

sitting on the laminate shelf.

It looks smaller than it did when it was full,

just a piece of clay waiting for a box.