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Change the conversation.
            ~ Don Draper

my mother was a hoarder this is not a cautionary tale this is true my mother hoarded secrets my mother was a hoarder she hoarded held held on to everything except husbands except children my mother was a hoarder like the television show but worse my mother was a hoarder she hoarded Joan Rivers jewelry sweaters shoes pictures torn from magazines towels soap chips dirt dead animals secrets my mother was a hoarder we did not speak for a century when she was eighty and four I visited her house my mother was a hoarder like the television show which never reveals the smell the death linger the secrets my mother was a hoarder when she died at eighty and nine a dead apricot poodle discovered behind her refrigerator and the rest the rest my mother was a hoarder I do not watch the television show I know the smell my mother was a hoarder oh the smell a corpse floating in ditch water my mother was a hoarder she hoarded secrets bodies the smell a corpse floating in milk my mother was a hoarder worse than you can imagine narrow pathway through her house littered with dead mice dog shit on the table birds screaming from cages dander coating grease walls my mother was a hoarder kept corpses floating wet in her house with its perfectly manicured lawn my mother was a hoarder hoarded secrets hoarded her hubands hoarded her children hard enough to float them dead dead in sour pools of milk