… reminds me I do not belong.
Outside, sky darkens over a line
of could-be-anywhere mountains.
Electric light casts shadows around
plain walls, plain carpet, plain curtains;
and the chair with no cushion
where I drop my wrap; perch
on the king-size bed, careful
not to rumple its dull coverlet;
turn sideways from my Buick
parked by the window. Wait.
Anticipate that knock at the door.
Two Poems by Lesley Burt
Two Poems
Lesley Burt
lesley burt
my suitcase at the foot of the bed...
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