I Built This Room [by Michael Malinowitz]

I built this room by myself
And put into it only things that would
Matter to me: around an eyelid
Window to view the last
Quarter moons, I stacked books,
Only those read or intended
And music which outnumber
Books. I hung just a few paintings,
One by my sister who until recently
I didn’t know I had (both
The paintings and the sister). The bed
Was a single, large enough
For another to lie near to me;
Especially in the case a wife arrived.
The apparatus to cook and clean
Didn’t take up much space; no TV
Nor radio; no phone. I let
Jesus Christ into this room, but
Under another name; others came
And went through the door. I had
No intention to leave once I set up
Stakes. You see, everything in it was mine.
What others brought, I took in:
The fecund flowers, the pollinated corn
Presented by mutes and midgets,
Kings and sailors, friends
And foes, too. I shaved twice a day,
Once for an imaginary walk
To the bank, the other to see myself
Better, or at least more than I did
Before I built this room. Aware,
Not from letters to desist, I would
Leave: not to build or sell---
To walk hand over hand, clouds
Over skies, stars over suns, hand
Over hand, again in one language.

-- Michael Malinowitz

Comments

[Cammy]

I like the flow of this poem!