North Facing
This house has — too many — windows:
anyone can see in.
It’s one of those houses
people stroll through the back door —
they feel free.
This house was not chosen
by me but by my husband
and father who pronounced it to be
a fine, solid, master-built house
(built by masters who morph into monsters).
It opens benignly to the morning sun, turning
in the right direction (I’m told)
I should be grateful I am
not which makes me —
This house has two storeys, two stories,
the down stairs unrolling like a fiery tongue
I was always afraid to be pushed down.
But now that the opening is closing (touch wood)
I’ve begun to write over the holy hole
we punched in the door of hell.
(They say suffering is good for you; I can’t tell.)
This is not my home. I don’t live here.
I abide in the safe house my mind
has constructed from word-wood.
Only I can enter the back door:
others must knock.
If I choose not to be home, I’m not.
But here, my face faces
painfully outwards, over-
exposing its north-lit bits,
here, there is only one
room to hide in, one
secret space
in which to sit,
and this, this
gash of a poem,
this is it.
- © Michele Seminara 2021
Michele Seminara is a Sydney poet and chief editor of online literary journal Verity La. "North Facing" is the opening poem in Michele's latest collection, "Suburban Fantasy", currently available for pre-order through UWAP. Just click on the link:
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