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.