Writing a landscape poem for Week 3
My room has no light.
Yes, it has windows, two of them
with views of red shingled roofs
and the damp empty street below,
but they are shunned
by blinds drawn
and twisted tight.
Yes, it has a lamp, new and clean
with a wide, ocean teal shade
set at a jaunty angle
like a gentleman's top hat,
but the bulb is cold and quiet
and barely used.
My room has no light.
The darkness is a blanket
that wraps me in itself.
Shadows are warm in
grays and blacks,
filling the dullness
of empty space. Time
has no hold as the sun
and moon and stars and world
pass by shuttered windows,
unnoticed.
you know you're a hermit when you're told to write about someplace that means a lot to you and you choose your room lmao
