OPEN HOUSE

This is the living room

I’ve always been a fan of the vaulted ceiling

We used linen and silk throughout

She used to curl up with a pillow and her morning espresso

I slept on the futon with a newspaper over my face

The floors were done with the intention of being easy to clean

And also stepped on frequently

You will note the Scotch thistle at the centre of each ceramic tile

And seconds later you will note the surrounding desolation

You know how some marriages go

One day it’s daffodils and lint rollers

The next you come home and she’s at the stove

There’s a perfume hanging in the air

The shower’s running and she’s about to flip an omelet but instead

She turns to you

I’m a great believer in folk healing

So we had this sunroom added about nineteen years ago

I hope you don’t mind listening to me go on

Isn’t it funny

I have a lofty new age friend but I myself am not lofty

Though I recited Tennyson to her the first time we met

I was eleven she laughed at my back all lumpy with deerfly bites

It was summer and she worked on me like a crowbar

Though she was only nine

This is the bedroom my legs still ache when I look at the four-poster

Would you like to touch her raincoat would you like to wrap on her black dress

You think they wouldn’t suit you

Well I guess you need a certain something to pull them off

I see you want me to get on with it

So this is the bay window here are the floorboards that is the ceiling

Let me pull the shades let me find the heat dial

I used to believe in the law of proximity

Oh don’t nod like you understand

It’s a term I made up

It is the belief that if you bear witness to something terrible

You will never directly experience

That terrible thing

Which does not explain why

At my age

And having lost her

I am finally being taken to the Farmhouse

I wake up in the morning on the floor of a furniture-less room. Everything removed while I dreamed. How did they manage to take the bed with me still sleeping in it?

We just passed the kitchen which was redone in I can’t remember

Copper and a new fan, six burners

If you peer around that corner you’ll see the bathroom and with any luck

No one will be in it

Clawfoot, skylight, keep it moving

No I’ll need to pause here for a minute

I’ll need you to go on without me

Can you hear that din

It’s coming from the mountain to your left

She is passing overhead

Her span is exceptional

Even a town this big gets dark under the shadow of her wings