Saturday, January 19, 2013

Looking In

Nothing much changes when you’re back:
dishes still need to be done,
animals fed;
only there’s less room in the bed.
I won’t say it’s lonelier with you than it is without you,
but it is far less convenient.

Scenes of domesticity gone stale:
your constant complaining of dust,
the dog turning her back and looking longingly out,
and my silence.
Rescue what you can!

I am starting to weigh my 30 years,
piling others’ lives across the scale,
making sure I’m always on the losing end.
So what if it comes to this?

Forgive me if I don’t see you as the victory you might be,
but your smile doesn’t count if it’s not for me.
Besides, I’m too busy looking in.

(Originally posted on March 24, 2007)

5 comments:

Mirvat said...

i didn't get this one.. not quite

Mirvat said...

ok i just did :)
we can only truly love if we're selfish enough in love, i think.. we have to take care of ourselves first..

arch.memory said...

Hmm, I hadn't thought about that, but I can certainly see it... I am always amazed when that happens, when others can find a reading in our work that we perhaps hadn't consciously intended, yet is quite valid and well-seated in it. Thanks!

Mirvat said...

your poetry is not very explicit and that's why it's very eloquent and sophisticated. i get from it what i relate to :)

arch.memory said...

Thanks, Mirvat. See, that's what I like about poetry, though. It is this text that you can make completely yours. It is not totally vacant that you have to invent it, but it is loose enough that it allows appropriation. In the end, I think it is what you make of it.