Recuperation
No one sane would choose this sweet spanse of nothing, but now I am praised for living within the borders of my little world, watching leaves wave beyond the open windows. I listen for rain, note the light moving across these walls, the sheen on the floor. You’ve never looked better, they say, and it’s true. The life I was born for glows with inattention, basks in the lapse of anything to do, thrives like banana palms beyond my kitchen sink, ripening fruit dangling under red orbs, new stalks pushing up through the dirt. I am here, repairing with all that is lost, removed, forgotten, unseen. Cradled in the absence of noise, companion of cedared blankets, water in the pipes, damask paper on cabinet shelves, contented dogs— we all live complete as the bare touch of wood beneath my strengthening feet. Carol Louise Munn Originally published in 10X3 Plus
from Spirits and Gnats (Kelsay Books, forthcoming)