A Preparation... Poem by RIC BASTASA

how can i perhaps
explain
photographing every
nook of the house
all sides of the fence
and even the face of
the ceiling
the fingers of the stairs
each nail
and beam of the house

what is the use of
all these?
am i gathering memories
in order to
take with me somewhere
else?
am i ready to forget
how i made this
house?

the bright colors of the paint
shall haunt me
wherever i am

they will say, there was summer
here
there was harvest
after the seeding

the walls will say
what about those that you
conceal with us?

shall we now reveal them
to vendors
of biographies?

my bag is still not full
and i doubt what shall i fill it
when the right hour
steps in the door.