29 Rennie Court
POEMS FROM AROUND THE WORLD
When I step around the corner
Into the dark corridor
I swing round night
And I glance down the dim passage
To my left, every time.
I see the mail slot
In the small oval mirror before me,
And I hear my heavy treads
Upon the shedding mossy carpet.
It’s new and still emerging
As if its form is still being constituted
And as it becomes its cushiony self
It shuffles off excess in linty balls
And strands, wisps of matter,
Fringe particles, rubbed off existence.
In the vacuum cleaner bag a bale forms,
Reconstituted pale green fluff
Compacted into a cube of carpet
Contained in a plain brown wrapper.
The rug goes on. The rub does, too.
And I plod on, in barefeet