11/28/10
The path ended at the empty house
Where people had once been.
And I thought it couldn’t hurt to see,
So I went in.
I did not expect to walk a silent hall
No sinister sound
Or drape of dust,
The place largely preserved
Perhaps it is not my place to enter.
Not hastily abandoned, nor lingered over now
Each dish put away,
Table bare, one angled chair
Paused beside a closed book,
Window blinds partly raised.
The taps are clean and cold.
Could water still run?
The mirror showed no hidden glimpse
Of what was,
The prints still watched out from the walls
Stairs held up, doors shut.
Part abandoned, part preserved
I had no right to impose my wanderings
On these wooden floors;
Curtains draw,
Drawers explore.
What was left was a desperate goal
Folded and measured against the year
Put back for the time that they’d be needed
Part remembered, part ignored.
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