The door at the end of the long hall stands open

The third bathroom is in there

Sent to the room by my mother’s voice

busy behind the door of the second

common bathroom, the guest bathroom

Go use Mimi’s

I obey

The faint gold light

from a bedside lamp whispers

as I step twice into the space

Her closet door is open, just a little

Moving toward the closet my arm reaches out

to feel inside

to find her secrets

These are her uniforms

her suits of clothes and character

Rich hand-me-downs with East Coast labels

—meant to impressed me, even at 13

I am too far, too deep, too close to the truth

my ears give a quick check

All family members are engaged

in after dinner conversation

at the other side of the house

No footsteps in the hall

I can quickly look

touch a few

view the hieroglyphs

decipher the ridges

in her shoes

A shriveled fox head snaps at me

with sunken eyes from the top of a fur wrap

I sense the ghost of a guard

standing attention blocking me from the

colors, textures that hang in the back just out of reach

My bladder and a toilet flush down the way

remind me why

I’m there

Use the bathroom

then leave

don’t touch anything

mind your business

As I turn to capture one last look

I see her desk

a round breakfast table

paired by two chairs

with woven wood backs

Yellow chains of jewelry, keys, papers

laid out with books and pens

There’s a tube TV, two large leather jewelry boxes

on the long low dresser in front of the bed between

two dark lamps

Under the bed, I spy boxes of canned soup

Who gets all this when she’s dead?

My aunts will consume anything of value

Strangers at the Goodwill get the rest