Things in the Cellar
       

He wanted to go down to the cellar but it wasn't allowed. He
had business down there he wouldn't explain but it was clear he
couldn't manage the stairs. There were things in the cellar he
needed to be among: tools, tuna in cans. There was a steel rod
that needed straightening. A bear had bent it outside going after
the birdseed that had filled the pan suspended from the rod. Animals
were arriving in the backyard to eat. Small ones were nesting
under the eaves. The animals were hungry and wanted
something. They rummaged at night, figuring out the locks. In
the afternoons they appeared disguised in the backyard, reading
the meter, collecting fallen limbs, as if they had real home lives.
A coyote in a zoot suit showed up often near sundown, a coyote
with credentials, who'd take stairs two at a time if it had the
chance. In the cellar a man could find strength—a good place to
remember, and dark.

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Copyright © 2018 James Haug All rights reserved
from Riverain
Oberlin College Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission