To Help Her Move
She is told I’m like an elephant
and calls on me to help her move,
to burden her dressers and boxes to the truck
and out of the truck to her new locked door.
She is separating
from the bearded happy farmboy of her wedding.
I am alone. My back is strong.
I look for weight.
I take the box springs
and carry it over my head, my arms extended
as if it had a message for someone to read.
At the truck, I slide it on its side
into the crevice in the furniture
and return upstairs to dismantle more.
Patrick T. Reardon
1.16.19
Originally published in What It Can’t Save (Pudding Magazine), 1986
Written by : Patrick T. Reardon
For more than three decades Patrick T. Reardon was an urban affairs writer, a feature writer, a columnist, and an editor for the Chicago Tribune. In 2000 he was one of a team of 50 staff members who won a Pulitzer Prize for explanatory reporting. Now a freelance writer and poet, he has contributed chapters to several books and is the author of Faith Stripped to Its Essence. His website is https://patricktreardon.com/.