Everything

By Craig Kirchner

I’ve got a lot of things,
stuff I haven’t looked at in years,
jewelry, which I never wear,
and with a few exceptions, can’t identify.

Navy blue leather chair, great chair,
doesn’t face the TV, never gets sat in.
Marble top chest, heirloom armoire, 
it’s all just furniture.

3 overcoats, 4 jackets, no winter in Florida.
In the corner of the office, a dozen golf clubs, 
won’t make it to the bag,
haven’t been hit in decades.

I hear others discuss it, hoarding,
an altruistic need to provide a home,
a need to have more, 
be surrounded by old and friendly stuff.

Thin it out, organize,
Swedish death cleaning?
Is there a perfect balance, 
between everything and nothing?
 
When you hit the number
a bell rings, and you win more stuff.
Yesterday, subconsciously, 
everything, would have been great.

Today, consciously, 
I’m leaning toward nothing, 
almost nothing - family, friends, soul mate,
and the clothes on my back.

Craig Kirchner is retired and living in Jacksonville. He loves the aesthetics of writing, has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels, and has been nominated three times for a Pushcart. Craig’s writing has been published in Chiron Review, Main Street Rag and dozens of others. He houses 500 books in his office and about 400 poems on a laptop; these words help keep him straight. Craig can be found on Bluesky.