Poem: A Room With Three Walls | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Chronogram Magazine
The living room
is covered in a
cream shag carpet,
One wall of
four walls has
no wall.

The room’s edge,
sheer fall,
waiting rock,
drenched sea.

My dead father phones,
he suggests dinner,
he is laughing
in a way he once could.

“How am I,”
his voice changes to
a woman I don’t know.

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