and a happy new year
First. You open the attic,
let it swallow your air, the healthy temperature.
Pull out the boxes, even the broken
full of tissue and newspaper.
Second. Bring them down to the dark tree,
the velvet skirt, the cards strung in a line.
Wrap it all individually like it’s Tuesday and glass.
Put the lid on tightly. The moths eat.
Third. Know this for a new decade:
God travels in lightyears without a single box.
Resolution #6. If it’s a thing un-enjoyed, throw it out.