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