Somewhere Else Entirely
Somewhere Else Entirely
Where did you sleep last night,
where did you sleep? I feel
we spent the night together,
but when I wake, always
earlier than the alarm
is set, you’re never here.
Strange, the empty bed.
I scan the other rooms
and though I seem to remember
an evening like one of hundreds
of evenings spent together—
so many years together—
peaceful evenings, each
of us at our desk, the sense
of someone else in the flat,
you in your room; then
going to bed: affection,
embraces, intimacy . . .
Now everything is different.
I walk along the hall,
enter each room, uneasy,
seeking, but find no sign . . .
Although every room
retains so many memories,
sounds and images, is
saturated with your essence,
I know I’ll never meet you here . . .
Where you sleep, day and night,
is dark and cold and silent:
somewhere else entirely.