Your old ponytail tied in the dresser drawer. Sandlewood spilt on the green-gray wall-to-wall. Traces of silver crayon. Old wall paper torn in the shape of a hound's face: the pattern a pink woman dancing, holding up her hem. Wax scraped from the blender's dial. Dog tags clinking on the light-bulb's chain, your hand-lotion smeared in circles on the mirror frame. A woodpecker nest in the china cabinet. A fingernail scratch on the bannister where you slipped. Broken-edged tea cups under the foam in the sink. A near dry violet wash-cloth dangling over the chair arm. Lace curtains cut to rags by the back porch: a half-drunk bottle, made of dark blue glass, on the steps going down.