passage
for Crystal Dawn
fifth day of moving,
what was left:
brass teddy bear music box
on the window sill;
dimes, nickels, pennies, worn-out shoes
across the carpet.
two unopened rolls of Christmas wrap
to the side;
one burgundy, gold, and white
high school cheer leading uniform
hanging in the closet.
one oak chair
in the middle of the room;
one glass, one spoon
on the chair.
a brush, three pens, two pencils
scattered in a corner;
one rolled-up angel poster
leaning against a wall.
one phone and one answering machine
(said she wouldn't be needing them);
one bouquet of dried pink roses with
red ribbon
on the floor by the door.
in each molecule of the room,
in each molecule of the air,
a hologram
of nineteen years.