We're not alone
From the monthly archives:
March 2010
The Last of It?
THE FIRST LONG NAP I’VE HAD IN YEARS
On the third floor of the Island Inn,
a room no larger than a minute,
the small bed filling the room,
I lay down. White walls, the white
of steamed milk, whiter trim
on the window, its white shade
half-closed, half-closed white
curtain rippling.
Me on the white down
spread, pillows
also white and more
than necessary.
Like sentinels or angels
wicker chairs stand
on either side of the window.
In the chairs are
a pair of pillows, their fabric
worn and translucent
violet, like the sea-glass
earrings I wanted
from the shop below.
Outside the window, the world
is cropped to just tips
of evergreens and roofs of fish shacks.
Their needles and shingles,
like everything else, have dropped
below the sight-line, vanished
the same as boats moored on the harbor
this morning when they
submitted to the fog.
Lauren Cerruto
Who is that?
This is a detail from the picture now in the header. See the full picture here.
March Crossing