Five Years

There’s a pair of his shoes in the garage.

They’re black

So you couldn’t see the soot on them when I brought them home

It’s been five years now

Something white has begun to appear on the surface

But I still don’t know what to do with them

There’s a bag of his underwear in my closet

Most of his clothes went to Goodwill

He got a lot of clothes from thrift shops

So I think he’d appreciate that

But Goodwill doesn’t take underwear

And it didn’t feel right to just throw them away

And I still don’t know what to do with them

Soot was everywhere

On everything

It came home with me when I brought his things home

It got on my hands and on my clothes

And it took six washings to get it out of his clothes

Traces of it still linger

In the garage on the shoes and the jacket hanging there

And I can still smell it on warm days

It’s been five years and it is still there

And all it takes is a line in a TV show

Or a phrase in a song

And I can feel it

On my hands

In my heart

In my failure