In the papers and letters
The stacks of square notes you scrawled
The physics books, the math books,
The dated pamphlets in triplicate,
From the hard candies to the soft socks
I hauled you to the dumpster and threw you away.
Today I coughed what was left of your dust
And sneezed it out into your cave
The white walls your pre-grave
Silent from countless clicks and stares
Your folded chair cold
Despite the hours you played freecell
Today I threw out your old life
Your first wife, your first son
Paid one of your parking tickets
Chucked your debris:
The one-armed reading glasses
The 1945 yearbook
The broken ukulele
I squeezed you out
I wrung you out
I washed and wrapped you
And put you in a box.
I threw you away.
I crushed what was left of you,
Crumpled what was left
Smashed and folded and shredded
Your post partum remains.
I destroyed what was left of your chains,
You are free to go.