Distracting rays were shining round my door
And so I stood
And stepped across the landing floor
To see if any light-source could
Be ascertained but, once I was outside,
I checked my stride.
Out there I found a stretching corridor,
So down I walked.
I had not noticed it before.
On every lintel, names were chalked
And soon I stalled at one that was well-known:
It was my own.
The hinges creaked. I cautiously went in,
A room where sunlight lapped my skin
And central was a swivel chair.
It spun about. I felt a smile extend:
‘Good morning, friend.’
This figure gestured me towards an arch
And I, determined, moved to march
Its way, but paused: ‘I should express
Some thanks—‘my friend, however, waved and said,
‘You go ahead.’
Once I had ventured in I felt betrayed,
As I discerned
A maze of winding walls that made
Me dizzy, sad, until I turned
One corner and (in hope of what?) I saw
Eager, I entered, to a gallery
Of portals, each a vacancy
For liberty. I realised
I’d never loved a room. It is the door
That I adore.
Copyright: from The Multiverse (Carcanet, 2018), © Andrew Wynn Owen 2018, used by permission of the author
Explore Similar Poems
Also by Andrew Wynn Owen
An Interview with Laura Mucha
Listen to Laura Mucha talk more about poetry. Laura makes language fizz and pop, from ...
by Laura Mucha
2:11 listening timeListen now
Dear Key Workers
by Laura Mucha
1:31 listening timeListen now
Before she became a writer, Laura studied psychology and philosophy and worked as a ...
It Happened This Morning, Now Everything Has Changed
2:14 listening timeListen now
0:55 listening timeListen now
Featured in the
Foyle Young Poets of the Year Award
This collection of recordings features the previous winners of the Foyle Young Poets of ...