proposition

they say life
is a loss making proposition.
we collect our sorrows 
strewn around the house -
hanging in closets
tied with strings in drawers
piled up on the side table
in the space between old books
between the sheets on the bed
freezing in microwavable bowls
in the refrigerator
nudging in cartons of empty bottles
dancing in embers of salt and pepper ash
nestled in playlists made painstakingly
on winter evenings as work waited
in the tinges of blue on green walls
by the door that creaks and never fully.closes
dangling with other keys for unopened locks
in carpet stains whose stories are avoided
on the masks hanging on walls
with webs of a baby spider's learning
crisscrossing the cavity of the eyes.
in coffee cups with broken handles
and blunt pencils wary of sharpeners -
we gather them all
to make space for older losses
that made wise and deep by age
wait patiently in the shade
of weeds growing generously
on dead soil in plastic pots.

when the prospective tenant
visits the house this weekend 
she will find it clean and desirable.
she will share her stories of triumph
and count this encounter as one.
when she will leave, satisfied and hopeful
we will sit down on the sofa
and tell ourselves with a wry smile -
the loss making proposition
has good prospects.