Red-handled screwdriver, black-banded and steel.
Good-as-new chisel.
Carpenter’s pencil, knife-cut sharp.
All these on the removable tray.
In the hold, a weighty vise,
a hammer, a brand-new package of wire (circa 1970)
—his things become hers now mine and no one
to say don’t touch.
A guilty child of fifty years,
I take up the Stanley level No. 259 Made in USA
with two phillips head screws still solid
encased in what looks like expensive oak.