MoP, Day 18

and cellophane wrappers
once crinkled around
gourmet chocolates

the curtains are always drawn
in this house
the air is cool and
faintly sour in its dryness

lace and doilies
and floral tablecloths
squashy armchairs
like melting chintz ice-creams

a vast collection of
costume jewellery
that turns your skin green
with inexpensiveness

expired hand cream
perfume fermented for years too long
layers upon layers of bed linen
not cleared out for decades

and in the top of the wardrobe
two plaits of hair (with ribbons)
cut clean from the head of a teenage girl
eighty years ago

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