Another Walking Poem

Saturday Night Walk

We live in large houses
inadequately filled

stuff them with
things and things

until there is no room
for laughter to roar
no tiny space through which song
might rise to shake the rafters

so that we feel them still empty
and hunger for something more

The houses on this block
and this block and this block
all sit with one window glowing

blue of the television
yellow of the reading lamp
stark white of the monitor facing a face

I do not know who is taking in
all this light
whether they sit by themselves
wishing away their loneliness
or relish solitude
at the end of the day

whether they share the couch
with raucous friends joyously
or in sufferance

Four churches squat
on their corner lots
full of empty chapels
and glass deprived of its stain by the dark

I want to hear
what is rustling inside
shuffling of mice-feet in the community kitchen
whispers of long-ghosted parson’s wives

The high wide spaces within
pull at me like any vacuum
they are waiting for the morning
and their chance at service
From downtown, music wafts up the hill
it might be rock and roll
but damp air and shifting wind
have turned it hurdy-gurdy

In a few hours the bars
will retch out final reprobates
I walk up the steps of First Presbyterian
and hear the door licking its lips

copyright 2/29/12  Carol Steinel [all rights reserved]

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2 Responses to Another Walking Poem

  1. Homer says:

    The last stanza is delightful! I pictured the church aching to taste the penances of hung-over members within the congregation .

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