By Diana Becket

Silence is heavy in the living space. 
She speaks aloud and jumps
to hear her voice in an empty
room lit by sunlight filtered through blinds
thick with dust and grease. Mottled
shadows merge the outline
of the stairwell and throw
patterns over photos of people
she once knew, no longer remembers names,
but sometimes hears echoes of arguments,
important for another time and place. She spilled
soup last night on cushions
her mother patched—wiped
the cotton pieces, but the stain has congealed.
She falls asleep as the sun begins
to set, dreams jolt her awake, waits
a while then begins to search
kitchen cupboards.

Diana Becket was born in Manchester, England, and lived in the Netherlands before moving to Ohio. She began to write poetry when she retired from teaching composition courses.  Her poems have been published in Muddy River Poetry Review, The Cape Rock, and the anthology, I Thought I Heard a Cardinal Sing.

One thought on “Isolation

Leave a comment