I dream I’m in an airplane about to take off. The airplane becomes a large room and I sit on the floor, take hold of straps to prepare myself for the vertical take-off.
In this room
dining table chairs crowd the buffet
much the way we found them
in a second-hand store in the days
we thought finishing wood was easy work
and the mixing bowl and towel are arranged
on an end table with the same care
given altar vessels, the cup
a holder for toothbrush and paste.
In this room, life and death are a split hair, so close
I cannot breathe one without the other and day
revolves into night, into day
with the twist of the blinds, the walls
a rigid horizon. In this room
made festive with family photos
I remember waiting for each of my babies to be born
and how in those hours before the final labour
I dozed on the couch, then on a chair–
anywhere to ease the pain.
I wanted it to be over quickly.
Now I’m saying goodbye to their father
remembering the day we said for better for worse
innocent enough to think it meant forever
not knowing the future had already assigned
this hospital bed, this room,
this April evening.
Leanne McIntosh, Liminal Space, Oolichan Books.
Leanne McIntosh lives in Nanaimo, BC. Leanne in a ten year member of LCP. She is currently working on a third book of poetry titled The Habit of Being.