Before the downsizing move to a condo
by Sarah Russell

I knock the desiccated ivy and lime-crust soil from the planter, write $1 on the sticker. Robins nested under the eaves this spring with twigs and grass, tufts of old cushion gutted by squirrels, some purple yarn. It survived an April snowstorm and a blue jay’s siege. Twenty dollars on the rocker. Sturdy frame. Could be recaned. Sorry, no sleeping bags. My son took those. Could you use a tent? Thirty bucks, sleeps four. A quarter for the planter? Sure. It’s only twigs and yarn.

AUTHOR’S PHOTO CAPTION: The photo is courtesy of Bitterroot 50 Mile Garage Sale, with permission.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: The Silver Birch Press WHEN I MOVED  prompt came in July during our downsizing move from Denver to State College, Pennsylvania. Before heading out, we had an epic garage sale that inspired this prose poem.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sarah Russell has returned to poetry after a career teaching, writing and editing academic prose. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Kentucky Review, Red River Review, Misfit Magazine, The Houseboat, Shot Glass Journal, Ekphrastic Magazine and Silver Birch Press, among others. More poetry at