Spaces Between

 

You are a door locked,

key swallowed.

You are a room.

 

Outside people look

through frosted glass

at outlines that seem

to shift and settle

like overgrown moths.

 

Inside you are

cluttered ideas piled

high, accumulated

knowledge filed

haphazardly on shelves;

you are movements

disturbing dust.

 

You are the deliberate

spaces between things, gaps

like wide open mouths waiting

for more.

The empty light socket;

the carpet across which shadows pool

but never meet.

 

You are nothing but echoed footprints

and settling silence;

a window that stays

closed against sound and sun;

the dust that is never let out.

 

 


Beth Rust
Yr 13, Karamu High School