The tracks left
by the vacuum cleaner
could sustain her for days
she hid from herself
that she was glad of their appearance
and worked each day
to erase their path
with an unwielding
vicious, necessary momentum
The welcome mats
smelt of disinfectant
and no one visited
now that her husband was dead
On the second story landing
of this doll's house
by the sea
she kept two rooms ready
for her children
who both worked too much
to have time to visit
She haunted these rooms
planning all the aspects
of their visits
down to the finest detail
anticipating even
where they would place their heads
on the cushions or the pillows
or walk across the floor
I know that feeling, so beautifully realized/conveyed, and still the ocean...
ReplyDeleteYes sadder still as this poem is about my mother and once she loved to throw herself in the waves. Now she does not go across the road to the beach at all!
ReplyDelete