i throw my hands up in the air sometimes, singing (mildtigers) wrote in yeosung,
i throw my hands up in the air sometimes, singing
mildtigers
yeosung

#83.

'back to school' can go squish itself into a little corner between the rat hangout dumpster and the backdoor to the 60 year old little italian kitchen. grumble.




How strange to be sitting in this room,

to be noticing the windows—clearer than air—

how they let in everything, the leaves,

the bright-colored leaves, hanging like bits

of paper from the trees, and the thin woman

across the street sweeping her proch—

though she swept it yesterday and the day before

and will, most likely, sweep it tomorrow—

and how strange to be thinking of you, always

of you, as the room changes imperceptibly, easily

moving from moment to moment, like a lover

whose infidelities are purely imaginary,

imagined by you, just as you’re sure

the house might betray you, accommodating shadows

in your absence, sure that the room only

pretends to be your room, light climbing the stairs—

like an intruder or friend who left a long time ago—

pausing, changing its mind, going back down again,

as if the door were open and it could

come back anytime. Strange after so much time

to feel the same feelings, only stronger,

as the dust settles thickly on the tables,

and the afternoon shadows, unsure of themselves,

shrink into corners or lie on the floor,

and no letters arrive and the phone doesn’t ring,

and the woman sweeping her porch casts

a cold eye up at you—the face in the second story

window, the whorled face staring at the view—

goes into her house and shuts the door.

—Elizabeth Spires, Second Story

Tags: !prompts, #medium: photography, #medium: poetry
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