HIS UNFINISHED HOUSE THERE
...But for/ travel, scarcity. I am/ leaving room. I am/ willing away all that/ I do not need.---Hannah Stephenson, “Traveling Light”, The Storialist, 04-25-12
He said there was the old Bulova watch
hanging on the nail behind the door
in his room. It still works. It is yours.
He willed away a relic he did not need,
there was no pawnshop there anyway.
His turned down thumb belied his smile.
There was always his other word for away.
When I go there, I will be there awhile,
and there is no coming back there. None.
He looked away then, pointing to a frame
on the hospital wall, Our unfinished house,
finish it. It is yours. But shelter everyone.
He gave me time when there was none
left to finish his house so he could go there.
There was nothing he needed there. Nothing.
---Albert B. Casuga
This is Poem #26 in my poem-a-day project to celebrate National Poetry Month (April 2012).