Two people found an empty space
one morning. He loved
its vastness, while she hated
its emptiness. So they carried
the space with them on their backs,
out of curiosity.
"Is it too heavy?" She asked.
"Our backs can bear any weight."
She loved walls. She loved the way
they organized, separated, divided.
She loved closing her eyes and running
her fingers against them, letting them guide
her to corners, or their bodies against it,
So he built a wall, by smearing
cement onto brick, slapping
brick on brick, on brick.
"Where are you?" He asked.
"Here, behind the wall."
He wanted more.
So in the afternoon, he began fitting windows.
She kept the windows closed,
and enjoyed the view behind the glass.
In the evening, he stiffly opened a window.
It rained all over the kitchen counter.
He bathed in it, while silently she took a dry towel
and soaked up the mess.
"The kitchen sink needs fixing, love!"
So Love fixes the kitchen sink
and Love paints the cracks on the wall,
oils the hinges on the front door,
changes the bulbs when the lights go out.
Then one night the lights go out
And the creaking of the door wakes her to find
The paint fading in the hall.
The weight of a pen on paper,
cups, plates and bowls in sagging cupboards.
The clothes-line pegged
with hand-washed laundry in the wind.
Empty shelves and empty drawers.
More things that create
empty spaces to take up empty places.
By Carol ChanQLRS Vol. 5 No. 3 Apr 2006