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I was furious and disgruntled when those two young girls
came knocking at my door and sat wasting my evening, interrupting my wait…girls flopping over the bed that waited for him, picking up books for his hands, drinking
coffee hoarded for him, smoking his cigarettes,and then, lord save us, hollering to their boys whistling below, leaning out the window that couldn’t hold, full as it was of desire braiding my stripped life into a ladder to let him up or me down. I don’t know which but it’s my window and sitting at it steadies the
room until his appearance up the path. Then quick as stones they run off kissing their
youths, trampling trilliums, delicate flowers. It doesn’t matter. As long as they’re out of the days i wait for life to start. My pretty room. My sonnet.
came knocking at my door and sat wasting my evening, interrupting my wait…girls flopping over the bed that waited for him, picking up books for his hands, drinking
coffee hoarded for him, smoking his cigarettes,and then, lord save us, hollering to their boys whistling below, leaning out the window that couldn’t hold, full as it was of desire braiding my stripped life into a ladder to let him up or me down. I don’t know which but it’s my window and sitting at it steadies the
room until his appearance up the path. Then quick as stones they run off kissing their
youths, trampling trilliums, delicate flowers. It doesn’t matter. As long as they’re out of the days i wait for life to start. My pretty room. My sonnet.