Tuesday, September 07, 2010

Light but not all of it


Room At Last
For J.D. Salinger

You may sit smiling wanly at the edge of a bed
among grey-white cloudskins that gather there,
the walls nearly as barren of artifice as the motives
of a mirror, and as you sit you may know that no
one may ever see you in this moment until they
might happen to come across evidence of it, some
lines on paper, the butt of a cigarette left for a maid
that will never come to part half-opened curtains
that let in the light but not all of it, just enough to
preserve what shadows you have befriended, better
company kept against all who might have blamed
you dry of this precious contrast for only time is
allowed to move unparsed here, to riffle through
drawers, read over your shoulder, soften the click-
clack of a black typewriter, making sure the bolt
is turned and some veneer of mattering maintained.

Joseph Gallo
August 9, 2010



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