Opening a Cabinet of Curios
A poem
A poem
The chipwork latch gives way
with a creak and sigh,
the cupboard’s moustached lip
uncurling a secret grin.
A waft of naphthalene and eld,
the scent of heirlooms lingering,
as I brush aside the cobwebs,
antique lace kissing my fingertips.
Behind bevelled glass panes
a menagerie of bygones rests,
curios, brittle scraps of lore,
each one whispering its haunted genesis.
A mourning locket, enamel petals
cradling a faded swirl of ash-blond hair.
A cameo brooch, creamed alabaster
echoing the curve of a vintage beauty’s cheek.
There, a jar of bone-dry rosebuds,
culled from the grave of a stillborn babe,
and pressed amidst vellum sheets,
wildflowers from the meadow she’d never roam.
These shelves groan under
the weight of loss made relic,
mementoes honouring the white shadows
that haunted these halls before me.
My name unspoken on their delicate lips,
yet in their brittle arms they embrace me,
the keeper of her melancholic legions,
the tender of her sorrowed things.
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