Heavy as All of Life

I have moved out of my
comfortable life, my
cornflake-able breakfast
with repetitious news, broadcast
but already digested.
Now everything important
is in a box, hastily labeled,
semi-mordant as rocks
at the bottom
of a fast moving stream.

The movers in three flashes
bundled chairs, sofas, lamps
into new spaces, a foot forward
or back indulging those moving.
Then came books until
muscles bulging-- a happy display
of physical power and work ethos.
No doubt to be replaced  one day
by disks in the pocket and laughter
of children to think their old man
carried books.

Yet everything was there
and seen en masse, my new life
became a rapacious appetite
to unbox books.


If you've any comments on this poem L.Fullington would be pleased to hear from you.

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