By Rupert Loydell
I carried the doll’s house from the junk shop
along the promenade to where I’d parked.
You have to rescue what you can or make do
with cardboard versions of boats, treehouses
and camper vans. It is hard to let things go,
to turn them out, easier if you can sell
and top up bank accounts. My car is full
of toy rabbits, a doll’s pushchair, and bears
with their own clothes. We’ve tried boot fairs
and adverts in the paper; now charity shops call.
Someone else will find a bargain, love them,
pass them on, and we will fill the space with
something else we do not need but have found
cheap and for a moment desired. It is hard to
unwant things, to be content, to say goodbye.
About the Poet: Rupert Loydell is Senior Lecturer in English with Creative Writing at Falmouth University, the editor of Stride magazine, and a contributing editor to International Times. He is the author of many collections of poetry, including Dear Mary, The Return of the Man Who Has Everything, Wildlife and Ballads of the Alone, all published by Shearsman Books. He edited Smartarse and co-edited Yesterday’s Music Today for Knives Forks & Spoons Press, From Hepworth’s Garden Out: poems about painters and St. Ives for Shearsman, and Troubles Swapped for Something Fresh, an anthology of manifestos and unmanifestos, for Salt. He lives with his family in a creekside village in Cornwall.