Tree House

the tree house,
the one dad built back when bobby was in third grade,
fell yesterday.

ma expected it, the boards were all rotted,
robert lives in california now,
alison is as good as dead,
and dad is.

and so,
ma,
with her hunched back,
went out,
in the dead of winter,
to pick up the
vinyl dolls,
broken cassettes,
superhero comics,
and board games

and wondered when all of that ended.