Woman (reading)
You in the living room
You on a Tuesday afternoon
A breeze seen when the curtains move
You by the window with both feet up on the couch
Where you sit and you read and I watch you
From the office, the sunlight frames your silhouette
I think of lighting fireworks, I think of pirouettes
I idly write down observations on the scene
Like do the blueprints name the rooms alone?
Do we name them on our own?
We hardly live in there
You with a book propped on your knees
A breeze seen in your coffee steam
I’m in the office thinking back to rules of poetry, like
It’s fourteen lines, the last two rhyme, what does pentameter mean?
You in the living room
Legs bent at forty-five degrees
I write AB AB
Try to find your rhyme scheme
I look for objects on the desk
With which to sculpt your image best
What would I name this, could I paint it?
Woman (reading)? Girl (at rest)?
I remember it so well
Watching you shifting your weight
Turning the page
I can see it all there
Inside a living room
Where only I live
And never go in
A role in name alone
And I pause where I am for a second when I hear your name
Sometimes I think I see your face in improbable places
Do those moments replay for you?
When I’m suddenly there and then won’t go away
When you’re sitting in the living room reading for the afternoon
Do you put your book down, look and try to find me there?
Sometimes I think of all the people
Who lived here before us
How the spaces in the memories you make
Change the room from just blueprints
To the place where you live
When you leave here
When you go from a home
You take all that you own
But the memories echo
On hardwood floor in the living room
Tore the carpet, the scratches below that we found
And the wine stain on the couch
We got drunk and decided
We’d still try to move it around
And I can’t tell what the difference is
Between the ones that we made
And the ones that we didn’t make
They all conjure images still
Where you sit and you read
In the sunlight, aware that I watch
And I live alone now
Save for the echoes