What They Left Behind

A carpet stain that will never come out,
a toy fire truck with no wheels,
a doll with one arm, naked,
one eye permanently closed,

four extra squares of kitchen linoleum tile,
a worn broom, straw tips blackened with soot,
an overlooked drawer containing
a tin box of assorted Band-Aids
with only the smallest size left,

one leaky D-cell battery, some rubber washers,
twist ties, bottle brush, a box
of strike-anywhere matches, paper clips,
and an extra stopper for the bathroom sink.

In a closet, a half-used can of Comet Cleanser
with a rusty lid, a dozen wire hangers,
most of them bent, a paper grocery bag
full of plastic grocery bags,
about eighty-percent of a broken dust pan,

one tennis shoe, child-sized,
for the left foot, still tied
in a double-knot with a muddy sock
stuffed in the toe.