Spring Cleaning

In the darkness, climb the wooden contraption that's as much stairway as ladder.

Here's one box full of important things. Here's another, filled with junk. Here's an empty one. Move them all aside.

Step over the holiday decorations.

Turn sideways to inch between Mother's old files and the shelf where the tax records wait out the five years before their shredded death.

The lair is there, corpses suspended almost in air, almost.

Someone needs to do some spring cleaning.