Nov 15 09: Leaving Room
November 15, 2009 § 10 Comments
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.
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.