The Room Where I Live




You enter a room juxtaposing the mundane and tragic.
This is the room where I live. Look how it frames my body!
The room has a number of fixtures and furnishings, which I like
to see in plan view beneath the stairs, as if my life were
a projection of an object from a horizontal
plane, the roof and walls are all that is omitted. 
In a certain way, however, the roof and walls remain.
They see me seeing you and offer us protection. 
They see the things I do and thus illuminate
emotion, as one might illuminate
a person by deciphering her code.
But a roof and walls is not a container for knowledge.
Nor am I alone, I am happy to report. 
I am here with you.