Poem for Occasion
Moving Day
The truck is almost loaded
- The rumor, I guess, is true -
Your suitcase locks safely shut behind you.
The room radiates an emptiness.
The hardwood floors never seemed so keen.
The renovation is underway to reclaim your life.
Fresh starts, in such a case,
Are always a good time
To dissolve relationships,
Break the spell
Of any unwanted Habit’s sway,
And run headlong away from one’s self.
I see you placing your remaining possessions
Side by side, solemnly,
Into a welcome box
With the appearance of orderly fashion -
It seems you have finished - here -
Your inconstant stay.
I wonder if you have saved some space
In there
My beloved
For keepsakes small - of us -
To comfort you on your hastened way
Through those fated lonely places
Which will remind unwilling
And sting poisonous with
Doubt’s prolonged pain
Before distance has chance to devour
A past Confusion
- Till nothing is retained -
Or, perhaps, you will instead pack us unkind
- In a separate box -
Abandon us on the top shelf
Of some fusty closet in your old house
For the new owners to find, open, and abort
Handling for you all the fearful weight
Of your heart’s own belongings.
And - even more likely -
Perhaps I know Nothing of what I think
And Nothing of what I think I feel
And Nothing of reality -
The Imagination is a sure funny thing
Endowing Us more real
Than any bird or chair or tree.
Of This I am certain:
We are now - to each other -
So much obscuring dust
Settling scarce audibly
With no gentle word or sign of Memory
- To be removed in one full sweep - obliviously -
A blemish no longer
To your faithful fading History.
The truck is almost loaded
- The rumor, I guess, is true -
Your suitcase locks safely shut behind you.
The room radiates an emptiness.
The hardwood floors never seemed so keen.
The renovation is underway to reclaim your life.
Fresh starts, in such a case,
Are always a good time
To dissolve relationships,
Break the spell
Of any unwanted Habit’s sway,
And run headlong away from one’s self.
I see you placing your remaining possessions
Side by side, solemnly,
Into a welcome box
With the appearance of orderly fashion -
It seems you have finished - here -
Your inconstant stay.
I wonder if you have saved some space
In there
My beloved
For keepsakes small - of us -
To comfort you on your hastened way
Through those fated lonely places
Which will remind unwilling
And sting poisonous with
Doubt’s prolonged pain
Before distance has chance to devour
A past Confusion
- Till nothing is retained -
Or, perhaps, you will instead pack us unkind
- In a separate box -
Abandon us on the top shelf
Of some fusty closet in your old house
For the new owners to find, open, and abort
Handling for you all the fearful weight
Of your heart’s own belongings.
And - even more likely -
Perhaps I know Nothing of what I think
And Nothing of what I think I feel
And Nothing of reality -
The Imagination is a sure funny thing
Endowing Us more real
Than any bird or chair or tree.
Of This I am certain:
We are now - to each other -
So much obscuring dust
Settling scarce audibly
With no gentle word or sign of Memory
- To be removed in one full sweep - obliviously -
A blemish no longer
To your faithful fading History.