Relocating

I used to stand by doorways, shoulder-blades

tucked inwards against the jutting frames

watching as they carried my words outside

in boxes taped down and labelled “fragile”

‘

I remember a grammarless time of children games

where names were always printed, never signed

all questions could be measured by a plastic rule

though no one cared if the figures landed within, or shied

‘

of boundaries crayoned unevenly into “yours” and “mine”

on the last day we categorized all the knick-knacks

that lined up indefinitely into the length of growing-up

against the hallway where I used my feet like a vandal’s tool

‘

to cover every inch on my memory’s floor-plan, every crack

and fingerprint left on walls thrice re-painted in a decade

I foresaw then the ritual cleansings--when I am gone

life begins again from scratch. Like some unquenchable cup

‘

that drains itself, the habitat of my remembrances will evade

demolishment; it lets me stand by doorways, shoulder-blades

braced against the pain of relocation; now I am less agile

and I can no longer part from my years as lightly…