a hutch, these dishes,
a milk-glass cake plate
no longer belong to me
in this dream
i am a trespasser
in one room, a skeletal spider spills from a clear vase
and lands beneath the lazy susan where dust clumps and dried insects gather
in another,
a betty crocker cookbook falls apart -in my hand
a tight faucet spits orange
i am thirsty but decide to wait
just inside the back door,
mother's yard coat and a bent rake hang, on side by side nails
the yard
is full of red and yellow leaves
i realize it is fall
i realize it is fall again
in this dream
there are no words- no faceless footfall
no sense of belonging
m
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