70s and 00s  

dredges of toilet paper cling
to a grade one spruce
sawn off at the shoulders

students mount posters
with a stapler in the landing
melamine the white and chrome
of the 50’s stove black
and in the summer
smoke on the back steps
knees up, arms out with a bottle

the landlady had the back trees cut down
the white fence, the hole for the diagonal limb
gone
the yard naked to the street
splayed with cars and pummeled snow

once a woman drove by the house
once
to show her new husband where she’d lived
found Easter eggs in cellophane in the tall grass
waited for a paper airplane to blow off the roof

she spoke behind the glass
he leaned forward, intent

the free sample packet of spinach
that went to gangly stalks of seed
the spat alley-dusted horseradish leaf
and stolen rhubarb

then she stared
in the face of things too small for words
images without story

the smell of the cereal cupboard
a color photo of the back steps
a snowsuit, a timid smile

he leaned forward
trying too see

a girl
hiding in the bathroom closet
a bare shoulder held away from the pipes

© 2006 Gordon C. McRae