I let a sweater go

a pair of shorts, your denim dress

try to be okay

with this business of moving on

stuff them deep

into the double Kraft from the Hy-Vee

remember the bed piled

with what we pulled from the closet

how we dusted off

mouse scat where they scampered

across your hangers

packed so tightly they raced them

like tiny Everests

and how you would’ve laughed it off

as being unimportant

in the larger scheme of things

which for you was people

what you were all about those words

like steadfast and loyal

carved into your swollen face

as I sat beside your bed

when you no longer knew I was there

that afghan I crocheted

getting longer row after row marking

our time together

gold on black woven into our tapestry

enough when words

of little consequence between us failed.