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After the Wedding
March 8, 2023
I am married to this room.
It holds memories in its walls,
Strings sorrows in its rafters.
They hang down in ribbons,
Still in the dead air.
In the depths of the night,
I spread our tablecloth
For our dinner of lead.
I set plates for two;
Both go untouched.
And when I fall into fitful sleep,
I dream that my darling
Crushes my lungs.
I think the room and I
Will grow old together,
I in its cold embrace.
I think that its walls
Will crack with age
And the light will burn my eyes.
I think I will patch them
With the fears from the corners,
And slip into darkness
Once more.
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