Nov 15 09: Leaving Room

November 15, 2009 § 10 Comments

1192139-1-coat-hangersDo you ever crash after a sugar buzz?

I gave in to a box of chocolate last night (this is rare for me – to have a lot of chocolate and to eat it with abandon) and woke up with a chocolate hangover today – cranky! But I’m managing by remembering that I have five days of work left and then a vacation. It’s a staycation, which is just fine by me.

Be warned, hangovers don’t inspire me, but it’s the writing that counts. Today’s Poetic Asides prompt is to write a hanging poem.

 

Leaving Room

 

This house was built for two with matching
pearly bathroom sinks. The master suite carelessly
holds a king-sized bed and several chests

of drawers. I do my yoga in this spacious
room. As I bend into a triangle,
the paleness of the walls surprises me.

At night, one tiny lamp illuminates
the bed. I wake on its left side –
it’s sullen with my presence, flattened

by my weight. The walk-in closet is dusty,
firebombed. The light bulb is
burned out and when I knock, my shoes

leap into its furry corners. Plastic and metal
hangers mix, greens and blues with
cardboard and wire; both sides are

full: sliming skirts, tailored blouses,
flowing shawls and summer hats share
the space. His boots and denim shirts

have fled. He left behind his pot and
concert Ts, and his wire hangers. Soon
after, my woolen pants and coats moved in. 

But the books say to leave room.
Leave room so someone else can fill
the space. (How far can I sink into myself?)

There is room, I think. The right
side of the bed, the waiting sink, the concrete
drive – all empty, waiting to be filled.

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§ 10 Responses to Nov 15 09: Leaving Room

  • This poem is full of emotion. I really can feel the emptiness of the feeling and the need to be empty again. It’s remind me the poetry of the sea, the soft movement of the waves. They never stop. Come and go… like a perfect chocolate day!

    Thank for this poetry.

  • If this is a hangover, then visit that state more often. Honestly, of all the poems I read of yours, this is one of my favs. Thanks for pulling back the curtain.

  • Julie says:

    “The light bulb is
    burned out and when I knock, my shoes

    leap into its furry corners. ”

    I can appreciate that! Also the hangover.

  • seanfraser says:

    I connected with this poem….. hanging on to the anticipation of having someone come into your life so you can have a close relationship and confide in them is healthy……but the time you spend hanging around waiting for them to come is better off spent nurturing yourself ….if you can’t find someone else to make happy then make yourself happy.
    PS turn the second sink into a fish bowl.

  • Neil Reid says:

    Sometimes my whole life can seem like a sugar buzz. Or maybe feel like the time in-between? Not sure which, or both? Met a man named Jack this morning near seven, in the coffee shop. He was retired. I think he really wanted to talk – you know. I listened a lot. It was just fine, friendly, sincere. Larry was in the afternoon, an art gallery owner. We talked long and to little consequence, except it was nice to relate with a stranger – you know. Does this relate? What do you do to fill up space, except it wasn’t like that at all. And sometimes we’re strangers right in the same bed. You think?

    I love having your poems to come home to every day! They splash and the ripples last for hours and hours afterward. I appreciate the company.

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