Museum

Who curated the pile of old shoes? 
The rusty hinges? 
Who decided on the cascade 
of dusty eyeglasses, barely glinting, 
now blank, blind?

How could that person not 
have wept at first sight, 
not stand there weeping 
uncontrollably?

Surely there was a committee. 
Did they all weep? Together

or individually? Some of them 
blatantly, right in the middle 
of the decision-making process.

Others later, at home, 
in the privacy of their kitchens, 
standing in front of their ovens.

Others maybe only in their hearts, 
or not at all yet.