Poem

Hat on a Chair

Those things that

did not occur

to me have  come

to rest nearby,

like a hat placed

precariously on a chair

by an unwanted visitor,

a former friend or lover

whose recently trimmed hair

fills the room with silent

and impending despair.

Those things that

did not occur

to me crowd the

room like a thought

carelessly spoken with an

air of unwarranted rigor,

or questions in an old

letter read aloud,

or a stranger's
perfidious lie.

Those things that

did not occur

to me settle in, expecting care,

to be atoned for and

believed and canceled out

with a dull swipe,

yet linger there like

recurrent dreams,

or something senseless

and overripe.

Those things that

did not occur

to me are chained  like

old words made to last;

things I am unable to

relive or greet anew,

a past I can no longer

recognize nor cast out

but must live with,

like an old friend or

lover filled with doubt.


TS