Andrew, all this needs is cutting and tightening. Here's what I suggest:
DETAIL
The house whispers
its discontent and keeps me up
with its incessant whining.
The trick would be to turn off,
like the filament in the bedside lamp
when I press the plastic button
beneath the shade. The physics
of the real world, not the metaphoric,
are life without you: the dozen
details of each event – bringing in
The West Australian, shaking it free
of dew, watering your plants,
removing my wet sandals. Details.
Like the atmospheric control light
I've never noticed in
the refrigerator before. Beep,
it complains. Beep. Beep. Details
like that. I can tell you now
you're so far away how many
steps lead from the front door
to the letterbox. The house rises before me
and clears each room of any life
that might be there to join me
as I rise from my chair, walk out, say
'Hello?', return and read
your itinerary again.
|