34.
       

In Spain, the table we ate around was rectangular.

At supper I overheard Inma, in Spanish,
"You have to be lonely to hear the wind blow,"

The same sentence my grandmother said I said
When I was young. My uncle wrote a song then.

I hadn't been following the conversation
So the context was lost on me. I know the two sides
Of writing poems after people you love who have gone.

The large thing will fold up inside of the smaller.

At home from my window the night sky angles oddly.
You cannot see this if the blinds are closed.
If the blinds are open the neighbors can see in.

As always there are the two distinct groups,
The one that cares and the one that does not.

I like light. Otherwise, I think of myself in the middle.

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Copyright © 2015 Sally Keith All rights reserved
from River House
Milkweed Editions
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission