By the Southeast Window – a poem by Lydia Falls

By the Southeast Window 


engines hum along Benedict Road 
and one by one i stow my ears 
with flowers. 

beyond the quake of tarmac, 
partitions of stone, tucked inside 
a memory built for strangers,

i count each ghost, pretend i know 
the middle path towards waking—  
to rearrange my roots and dig 

a hole through my essentials;
to carve off spindly threads
or lose my meaning. 

here i imitate simplicity and 
ease to embrace change, hopeful
for a shift in nature’s mercy.

now evenings come and go 
without a word.

                           there is no space
left for excess in a day that pleads 

for presence;  acceptance blooms 
when time is gifted to the shadows.

so i grow a garden in the corner 
by the southeast window, 
curtains drawn till morning, 

as i feel my life unfold 
between the margins.

Lydia Falls resides in the woods of New York after living abroad in South Korea and Taiwan. Her poetry collection, Beneath the Heavy, was published under Merigold Independent (2021). Lydia’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Connecticut River Review, Midway Journal, Washington Square Review, Here: a poetry journal, and elsewhere. www.lydiafalls.com