February 25th, 2017

poetry, exceptindreams

Rooms Remembered | Laure-Anne Bosselaar

“Rooms Remembered”
Laure-Anne Bosselaar

I needed, for months after he died, to remember our rooms—
             some lit by the trivial, others ample

with an obscurity that comforted us: it hid our own darkness.
             So for months, duteous, I remembered:

rooms where friends lingered, rooms with our beds,
             with our books, rooms with curtains I sewed

from bright cottons. I remembered tables of laughter,
             a chipped bowl in early light, black

branches by a window, bowing toward night, & those rooms,
             too, in which we came together

to be away from all. And sometimes from ourselves:
             I remembered that, also.

But tonight—as I stand in the doorway to his room
             & stare at dusk settled there—

what I remember best is how, to throw my arms around his neck,
             I needed to stand on the tip of my toes.