Hotel Chelsea: New York City : Jan 2010
Down the hall
I was a ghost
spectral passes
to the head
rootless as
the spartan corner room
the steam announcing itself
with calculating clicks.
I was far from
what owned me
in a home for transience
a protective scab
over my head...
I am only passing through.
Every creak of a door
Down the hall
I was a ghost
spectral passes
to the head
rootless as
the spartan corner room
the steam announcing itself
with calculating clicks.
I was far from
what owned me
in a home for transience
a protective scab
over my head...
I am only passing through.
Every creak of a door
every unexpected wisp of musty air
someone was here
there
now
before.
A shallow sleep
I was interrupted
by a man
his torso
bleeding into the dark
his face a polished white
looking at my window
to the "hell with you"
honks of cabs
and the pleads
of the city lights below--
he nodded to me
"Yes," I said, "I know."
- Doug Holder 2011
Doug Holder's work has been in Manifold( UK), Poetry Kit ( UK), Fine Line, Poesy, Endicott Review and others. I teach writing at Bunker Hill Community College in Boston and Endicott College in Beverly, Mass.
2 comments:
Great poem Doug! Impressed with the depth of this one!
Very good Doug. What a venerable place to be in. Talk about ghosts, indeed.
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