Unpeeling your wallpaper
feels a bit like
unravelling your finished life.
I pull off another strip
who helped you paste up these dull mauve motifs?
Was it the nephew
who was too full of grief
to collect your furniture when you died?
We still have your crucifix.
Your couch and step-stool witness the changing walls.
I spray solution
and ask what you did to change this place?
Was the green bathroom your idea?
If so, why the mauve paper here?
And the brown wood kitchen
- but in that, you're definitely a victim of your time.
The paper falls in whirls
and then irregularly-shaped damp scraps.
They descend with pulpy weight and drape themselves
around your former step-stool's legs.
Then slowly dry, crisp like the pages of a book.
Perhaps also a biography.