In an abandoned house
somewhere between Soap Lake and
the middle of nowhere
(if that isn’t redundant)
In the very last room
where the ceiling is peeling away
from the roof in huge dark chunks
and the naked metal bedframe
rusts silently in the corner
you hear her voice,
and it is like the poem you wrote
in college about something that never happened:
at last the tears come,
small and dainty like pearls
strung on a necklace,
a sheen of soft light
amid the debris
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September 22, 2011 at 2:05 pm
KatiesCameraBlog
I really like these photos and your words are wonderful. Thanks so much for sharing.
September 22, 2011 at 4:14 pm
kamana
rusts silently in the corner’ … i like that. that is one completely forgotten about house.
September 23, 2011 at 5:29 am
jessicamarie19
Absolutely beautiful! I would share my favorite lines, if I could choose.
September 26, 2011 at 8:16 pm
sassysistersink
very beautiful, evocative…
for your new poetry book, I hope??
October 15, 2011 at 2:34 pm
Patricia Clark
simple and cleanly elegant…
October 23, 2011 at 7:18 am
Debi
oh amy. this is as amazing as that sky in the next post (previous post? i am reading these backwards). i heard her voice through you.
November 8, 2011 at 12:47 pm
Julia
Amy,
The visual and verbal images of your words in this post are breath taking. I am there. I am her. What a lovely post.
December 20, 2011 at 3:56 pm
December Views: She catches the December stars « Winged Paths
[...] a strand of aging pearls turning smoky golden with the years: an echo of the pearls that fell shining to the scarred wooden floor during a spring and summer without end. and the lights on the [...]