2022-08-22 #writing/poetry #poem-a-day
my room. at first pristine, bright, straight rows of pearly whites now, poked with gaps, holes of missing wall. A wall full of dynamic prints, a Hawaiian sunset. A fun arrangement of rocks. Now empty, blank and white. Pocked with holes where I mis-measured and the nails were too far apart, marked by scratches from clawing towards order. A white canvas. A space for possibility. In two weeks time this room will be empty of my things and of myself. My stuff spirited away into cardboard boxes and white trash bags with red lassoed ties and unfamiliar dwelling places.
The wall is blanking. I am stripping it of myself. The plants are wilting. Soon they will be in new homes, with new names, with new air to breathe.