How many rooms one occupies to lead
a life! — the child’s small cell, within earshot
of his parents’ smothered moans; the college room
assigned by number, a poster-clad outpost
of freedom; the married man’s bedchamber,
cramped scene of glad possession and sneaking sorrow;
the holiday rental, redolent of salt
and sun and other people’s cast-off days;
the capstone mansion with its curtained pomp;
the businessman’s hotel, a one-night stand
whose trim twin beds and TV sketch a dream
of habitation soon forgot; the chill
guest room; the pricey white hospital space,
where now the moaning has become one’s own.
Chambered Nautilus
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