piles

piles of books
and sweaters
and
shoes
litter closet floors
and the piles never seem
to get smaller
they grow
and grow
until spiders make homes
and moths move in
and then
she finds them
and feels somehow
broken
detached
afraid
of what she’ll learn
if she digs
so she leaves them alone
and doesn’t question how they got there
or what is crawling inside wool
and lace
and cotton
she closes the door
because what she can’t see
can't hurt her