He remembers an egg-blue box and its bow
-- sweet laid-up daughter chocolates
ten years dry-whitening

He remembers how
throughout that house
under faded covers, backs and borderings
he'd find still-bright colours
varnishes, gilts
old hidden immaculates
part-parcelled and preserved

He remembers a deep shelf
set in a tall staircase wall
that he'd quickly feel
every single goodnight over
as he climbed shadowy
steep to bed

but never touch on something
once kept, he remembers
that he somehow somewhere
glimpsed in the house
but glancing missed
back in that long-emptied and fallen place

Freedoms diminish in quiet ways

Send him even now a particular wind
and the branch at his window scratches
in always the same downward arc
with always the same stiff twisting.