Books and books and boxes of books.
And more. I've never known their titles
and I've never read their words. Some
spine-damaged from the Louisa Street fire
of 1987. Everything M. collected and stashed
and saved and hid. I sort and toss,
take boxes to Goodwill and still the basement
is full, bursting. The first editions I'll
keep, if I perceive value, if they are clean,
or very fine or even mint (although these
are rare). I doubt that more treasures await.
I desire clean-sweeping and blank spaces.