Empty Room by Heidi Thompkins

Empty Room

by Heidi Thompkins

My roommate moved last night. The room's hall-bare

And echos with naked cement walls

And desk and shelves devoid of books. I swear

I feel I must be moving too. The halls

Own unclaimed emptiness says more "hotel"

Than home, and more so now. I feel a need

To decorate with flowers and a doorbell

And mounds of books I don t have time to read.

Maybe I'II fill the space with Aragorn

And Legolas "life-sized" cutouts. Hey. Im free!

I could hang Christmas lights or pictures torn

From magazines. Why is it now just me?

There's no one to come home to not a sound

I don't produce, and I am silence-drowned.