My nose was so close
To the dust.
I could smell the stagnant
Hopes entwined
In the strands of the carpet.
I was worn, lying there,
Thinking someone
Could open the door and just
Walk over me
To fetch a pair of shoes.
But the light sighing under
The door was gentle
And considerate as it lit up
The life in the air.

My fingers began to ache
As they waved—
As if the bones dislocated
From the enthusiasm.

My smile suddenly felt
Small and inconsequential,
Forced as it stretched
My dry skin.

I was swaying back & forth,
Drained by all of this
Social interaction.

I felt it catch the bus this morning.
It checked through the crossword,
Humming to itself.

I could feel its low heels clack, clack
On the sidewalk, turning down the
Smooth driveway.

It didn’t ring the bell—no, it only twisted
A key it had found long ago, and stepped
Inside, sighing.

The house was too bright with too many
Warm lamps and sun-lit windows. It
Pulled the blinds.

They unrolled sharply, wincing at the
Creeping darkness. But, ‘much better,’
It thought.

How long would it stay this time?
With bony hands, it scrawled
‘Indefinitely.’

She said the walls always
Seemed to march towards her,
Closing in, squeezing, until she
Couldn’t breathe.

Her eyes pressed shut, and her
Hands didn’t know what to do with
Themselves. I tried to comfort her,
But it was useless.

It seems to me that no matter how
Small a space is, God fills the air and
The very walls, living in the fears we
Perceive all around.

My touch was cold on her stressed skin,
But God’s is gentle, everlasting, like
Laundry fresh from the dryer, warm
And comforting.