These things you loved, and left
me: turquoise set in silver buckles;
lapis in a gold band. Tattered jeans;
faded work shirts; one iris in a cobalt
vase. A painted iron bed, with flannel
sheets worn thin and pale. Billie
Holiday, Nina Simone. A delicate
Chinese teacup; a jeweled bird. Two
antique lacquered fountain pens; one
inkwell. Morning glories climbing
an adobe wall. This vast and empty
New Mexico sky.
I had a rule for this poem -- can you tell what it was? Did it work?