The Farmhouse is Cluttered with Memories by R. K. Wolford

                Ninian Reid CC



The Farmhouse is Cluttered with Memories


My grandmother lost hers there
in the stacks of thick photographs
and handwritten daybooks

My mother misplaced hers
among the old newspapers
and mismatched plates

At night, my grandmother would 
shuffle out of her new bedroom
into the old house

worried that the horses were out
of her father's barn
fifty miles and eighty-seven years away

My mother in her childhood home
tries to make sense of the new strangers
who claim to be her children

She listens for the return of the dead
wonders where her husband is
when an old man brings her tea

​

R. K. Wolford writes poetry and tiny stories in the San Francisco Bay area.

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