Aging Bundles Of Debris

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Storm cellar on the Texas plains.
Image via Wikipedia

Seven – locked in a storm cellar
where bulbs hang to dry in damp –
darkness of night.

Sleds posed for winter play –
piles of wood – never used where

Mama said, “Mice live.”

I reach to find the glove grandmother
used to paint our home,  stiff – from yellow
paint.

Light enters near an oval window
covered in last years paper –
wax paper wrap taped to studded walls.

Light comes from beyond where steps
of cement are seen – to reach outside.
Tiny pieces of cement caught between
toes, tickled bare feet. 

Spider webs hung near a light switch,
told, “Never touch,” so I listened – black
wires, a resting place for silver strands
of silk –

I twist the bulb – it heats up – only then
do strands of the web move back and forth
as  a black spider finds its’ way out from
its’ web.

I am stranded here with aging bundles
of debris –

I see it now!  Feel it now –
Locked down in our storm cellar –
a play spot for big boys – a hide out,
a storage room for Grandmother’s vegetables –
a shed for tools, a place where
Mama kept cardboard boxes filled
with dolls, tricycles – boxes resting on pipes –
hung above my head.

I remember a cold shiver run up and down
my spine – dampness had an awkward feeling –
as fear had a grip on memory inside my head
–  knew never to be caught alone in our storm
cellar – where children never played.

3 Comments
  1. Nancy Denofio says

    Thank you for the five star posts, I certainly appreciate it. Sincerely, Nancy

  2. Jessica Morrell says

    Love the images here. Reminded me of the basements of my childhood, including my grandmother’s cellar located under her kitchen. It was accessed through a trap door cut into the old red and gray linoleum. I was afraid when I was down there–windowless and smelling of the grave.

    1. Nancy Duci Denofio says

      Jessica how true this is the cellar was always filled with spider webs, funny, we don’t have those web’s in ours? LOL. And the trap door leading to the outside, I think it must have had four locks. And then the inside lock from the cold cellar, and another lock from the area where my father would draw, and then, finally the cellar where the washing machine was located, and it still had webs. LOL Thanks so much for your comments. Happy Holidays, hope to link up again. Nancy

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