A Safe Place

cubic volume about
one house by one
house by one house
no dividing walls
no hallways windows
no doors open
brightly lit
pleasantly cool
far wall blank
as a white snow TV
edged with glow
instead of bevel
attended to by
one stone bench
rising monolithic
from the marble floor
softened seat and back
by plush cushions
dark gray and ample
slow glass coffee
table between
holding three
picture books
speakers hidden
theater surround
in the walls and
ceiling roof-high
white framing
a blocked out
square recess
hanging vaulted and
centered overhead
painted gloss
dark red inside and lit
with hidden track lighting
side walls and back
recess shelves
for art and design
book and flower
two glass side tables
dark oak writing desk
three floor pots
offer up green growing
shade house plants
floor plan
empty eager
for distant walking
from the entrance
through which you enter
as if by appointment
to reveal me waiting
to greet you me-tall
two-thirds right
and two-thirds
back from where
we’ll both

#NaPoWriMo 2017 Day 12


I guess I was thinking vaguely about volume and art and distance and how a poem doesn’t have to mean anything. It can just describe a space and objects with no more meaning than to reside on the page architecturally, mathematical, precise, concrete, enjambed, and maybe peopled by the end. Such a space sat volumetric and entered in my imagination the moment these notions crystalized. There is no great trick to this poem. It is what it is, and probably not really successfully. I live in a world of clutter and wire and small spaces with short distances between rooms but where I would love to inhabit are sparse and vast open spaces.

I’m here but I’m waiting there and then maybe someone will finally enter.

Published by

Richard Leis

Richard Leis is a writer and poet living in Tucson, Arizona. His poetry has been published in Impossible Archetype. His essays about fairy tales and technology have been published on Tiny Donkey and Fairy Tale Review’s “Fairy-Tale Files“.