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Heirlooms<\/strong><\/p>\n When she died, Even the most useless of her things, Some things found new homes We have a doll that she was given as a child, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n John Grey<\/strong> is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in the Tau, Studio One<\/em> and Columbia Review<\/em> with work upcoming in Naugatuck River Review, Examined Life Journal<\/em> and Midwest Quarterly.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Heirlooms When she died, her possessions lived the more, memories glistening in crystal, served on bone china, ticking in the works of a souvenir wall-clock. Even the most useless of her things, like the shoe with broken heel, a scratched Andy Williams album, were difficult to toss, felt like the most […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-15466","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15466","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=15466"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15466\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15468,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15466\/revisions\/15468"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=15466"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=15466"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=15466"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nher possessions lived the more,
\nmemories glistening in crystal,
\nserved on bone china,
\nticking in the works
\nof a souvenir wall-clock.<\/p>\n
\nlike the shoe with broken heel,
\na scratched Andy Williams album,
\nwere difficult to toss,
\nfelt like the most grievous insult
\nwhen they were bundled in green bags.<\/p>\n
\nthough more out of duty than of need.
\nFor she lived her life
\nwithout accumulating anything of value
\nexcept, that is, for the life itself.<\/p>\n
\nto be passed on eventually, I expect,
\nto the offspring we do not have.
\nIt lies, buried between blankets, in an attic trunk.
\nWhen tipped over, it says “Mama.”
\nFamous last words, in this instance.<\/p>\n