Jenny Mitchell

The Bottom Drawer

 

Our kitchen has a bottom drawer beside

The sink. Oubliette, Aladdin’s cave,

Unholy mess, call it what you like, it’s

Full of bits and pieces I just have to save.

 

Let’s have a look. Cocktail sticks gone brown with age,

A puncture kit from when we rode our bikes,

Fridge magnets that have lost their pull,

A local map from when we went on hikes.

 

A thing to get the lids off tins of paint,

Masking tape, some perished rubber bands

And in a tiny screw-top jar, milk teeth

The latest puppy spat into our hands.

 

Pliers, key rings, lots of little nails,

A yo-yo, instructions for an old T.V.

A ball of string (unwound) and several

Layers further down, the Argos guarantee.

From time to time I spread this rubbish out.

Sentimental clutter, mementoes of the past,

Useful odds and ends if I should live that

Long, others I’ve forgotten that I’d lost.

How like my brain. The debris stretches back

For seventy years. That ancient grudge, that slight.

A compliment or two, forgotten vows,

The gaffes that have me sweating in the night.

 

Why not clear the damn things out? Except the

Useful bits of course. I really need a bigger head,

Perhaps another bottom drawer. Always one

To put things off, I’ve written this instead.