Of Boxes Being Boxes

I thought I could just carry boxes

To and from the van, from the flat

Bubble-wrapped

Heart and mind

Saucers and mugs

Forgive and forget as needs must

Just long enough

To shift the sofa out the doors

Cushions and all

Extra pieces yet to be boxed

Don't feel lost, wrapped up soft

Because I can't

Bang against the sides and corners

Chip the paint, remove the dusty borders

From what lived before

Taped up tight

Out of mind if out of sight

Doesn't always apply

Contents can shatter on the drive

Or the next, back for more

Two trips to move it all

Last room now unavoidable

Bedframe in pieces stands

Cursed comfort draped; a lance

I lose the joust to the dressing gown

Fly back to the backward glance

Legs hanging free, open robe

Releasing all my hope

Of boxes being boxes

An ordinary event

Cannot prevent

How I feel when footsteps next end

All distances feel shorter

A heart to mend

Beats faster to get out the building

Parts, bars and screws shed

Under memories I don't want filled in

Like the small box of the lift

With him

It's the last load now

Looking around I feel doubt

But take the way out

At least until we get to his new house

Offloading again the other end

Heavy and awkward disguised as friends

Saying it's the last leg

Bed is just round the bed

But I can't think of rest

Without remembering the rest

Of all I shoved aside

To help, tonight

I relive and reset

Reconsider, in future, doing less

Convincing myself

That boxes can be boxes

Padded and taped

Without these lines crossing

And seals giving way