A garbage bag, an overstuffed closet:
What goes? What stays?
Decisions flicker through the mind
Like bits of sunlight on unsettled water.
This can go, the broken and breaking.
This too, the useless and unwieldy.
In any process of elimination,
The first choices are the easiest.
The sifting becomes thornier
When encountering objects you have
Not seen in months, a year—
This one, a gift that was not quite right
From a person you love.
Maybe this person is gone.
An article of clothing that no longer fits,
But you wish you could wear
Again, and inhabit its confidence, charm,
Innocence, etcetera. The bag is in your hand.
It crackles, a sparking fire. Accept
This triage, subjective, uncertain.