Leave Taking

I spend all weekend in the attic
Issuing eviction notices to
Boxes stuffed with the detritus
Of family life,
Goods that were never good,
Books once read now shored up
And yellowing at the edge
I pull from cobweb corners,
Pass down the hatch
Into my Mother's outstretched arms.
I tread carefully, the rough floor
Bends at my step, I find
A painting in dreary oils
From my Grandmother's single
Brief creative flirtation,
The top of a grey wave
Crests the canvas like
Dirty dish water, the frame
Buckled by two dozen summers' heat,
An armful of albums release
Loose contents, dry butterfly
Stamps float around the room '
The Queen's young head comes to rest
On a pile of letters from people
Mostly missing, or absent or simply dead.
They have to go.
I have come to dispense
With all potential sentiment
Along with the children's toys we kept, for what?
An undulating lampshade
A hat stand
A Christening frock.