When I Show Rosemerry
My Home for the First Time

In every room I point out the flaw:
discolored spots on walls
I could have painted better,
a leaking bathtub hot water knob,
crumbling grout between green tiles,
dust on my son’s piled dresser,
the unfinished edges of a shelf.
I am only noticing what is beautiful,
she responds, and I realize
what I have done,
what I do, walking her through
the house of me.
Look here, I say, over soup and rice,
at the way desire is eating my face.
Do you hear how I am becoming loud
carrying a house and three kids
and 52 students and one gallery
and a town of hungry poets?
And later, over her homemade rye:
See how easily I am high jacked
by barking dogs and distant trains?
And finally, in the kitchen doorway,
my last confession:
I am becoming bony and thin-skinned,
which translates: I am slowly dying.
This time Rosemerry doesn’t respond.
This time she lets silence answer.

2012

4 Responses to “When I Show Rosemerry
My Home for the First Time”

  1. Fey says:

    The house of me. Stunning line.

  2. fey says:

    Is it not possible that a place could have huge affection for those who dwell there? Perhaps your place loves having you there. It misses you when you are away and in its secret way rejoices when you return. Could it be possible that a landscape might have a deep friendship with you? That it could sense your presence and feel the care you extend towards it? Perhaps your favourite place is proud of you.
    John O’Donohue
    Beauty, The Invisible Embrace.

  3. Rosemerry says:

    you die so beautifully …

  4. Oh, yes, “the house of me” amazing line! And beautiful that the last confession is in the doorway of the kitchen. Very symbolic without touching cliche.

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