I have become a permanent fixture.
No longer seen. Ignored. Like the breath in your chest,
I’ll be unnoticed until I am gone.
Yes–I’m an old coat rack, a hall tree with deep
diverging roots beneath this splintered wooden floor;
hairline fractures mapping out and making a break
for freedom, covertly inching away , searching
for an oasis in the compacted backfill
that formed the foundation of this lonely house.
But there is no leaving.
The mud I carried in on the heels of my boots
Made fast friends with the companionless dust on this cold floor,
Made of the same stuff from a different beginning,
evidence of my past missteps mingling
with the consequence of your inertia and dead space.
Rooted and glued now. Unable to move for fear
of dying, for fear of uprooting the only home you have known.
And so here I will stay. Silent. Unblinking.
and every tomorrow–
I will be here, strangled by scarves, aching
under the weight of your plans for rainy days.
And I will watch you
pass me by, toss your hair
and walk out the door.
into the sun.