The Zephyranthes

We called someone in to sand the floor
after the furniture was taken and we thought
the memories were removed from here.
Layer-by-layer, flecks of deep maple floor scattered
and settled on the sander’s hair
as he zig-zagged a snarling monster through the rooms,
while whirling orbits of sandpaper
sprinkled the scent of a freshly cut forest.
Ashes of memories littered the windowsills;
we would have to dust for days.

Suzanne Volinski_____Poetry Table of Contents