Smithereens Press Chapbooks The Sea Path by Ciarán O'Rourke | Page 37

retained by air or walls, and in the time taken
for shadows to perfect their shape in keyholes, hallway,
kitchen sink, without the bric-a-brac of breath
to intervene, will something same-like
have clarified in us, some play of tangibilities reset,
so the windows in our minds go glazed, the doorways
change their faces and the carpets shed their skins,
will the rhythm of floorboards come loose inside the sole,
or, as if memory depended on touch or proximation,
the house we left our lives in disentangle from the flesh,
and, forgotten, walk off without a whisper, float free?

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