Who knows how to begin

You may take your shoes off by the door
You may hang your coat on the rack
You may use the facilities
You may go upstairs and open
the first door on the left
You may lie on the sheets and cry
into the pillows
You may fall asleep and not
hear the bell for the evening meal
You may sit in the armchair
You may read and write by the window
and put a teakettle on the stove
You may draw the shades open
or you may keep them closed
You may open the door to the balcony
and sit on the wicker chair
You may cross out one line or rewrite
the same one ten times over
You may wrap yourself in a blanket
and go out to look at the stars
You may count down in silence
and around each letter of your name
You may sit in the warm bathwater
You may look at the ceiling
or close your eyes
You may listen as hard as you can
as frogs begin to sing in the ditch
You may leave with this last
note still ringing in your ears


In response to Via Negativa: Incipient.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.