by Libby Hanssen

Hand-lettered signs direct us to memories
A worn front step, clean small rooms, 
Every piece from two lives, priced to move.

Strangers discussing 
Snowblowers,
Loaf pans,
Golf clubs,
A velvet dress,
Trophies,
Boots, worn and slouched,
An exercise bike with music stand soldered to the handlebars.

An antique bassinet is labeled doll bed ($75)
filled with hand-stitched coverlets
and a silk cloth, biplanes and buildings woven in orange and blue ($15)

Vintage valentines ($1) are dedicated to Irene,
shuffled around a baby’s portrait in a cardboard frame, in a cardboard box.
Linens ($3) are folded, taped into piles, but 
a cabinet has no key ($75) and
a scratched souvenir baseball ($1)
is perched on a 2x4 nook, stashed with a second thought.

We leave with steak knives ($5) and a cake carrier ($3)
to add to the things that our children, or grandchildren,
or maybe just strangers
will sort through 
a last time, priced to move.