I'm trying something new, taking a risk this month - participating in#VerseLove with Sarah Donovan,
hoping to write poetry every day this April.
Today's poetry challenge is to think about "firsts," those experiences in life that stick with you. Write a poem with sensory words and details. I brainstormed a list of first experiences, and settled in on moving away from home.
The Dorm Room
The fluorescent light flickered
on and off,
wavering,
then settled on solid and bright,
revealing,
a room so small, there was
only one way
to set up the three pieces of furniture,
a narrow twin bed, desk with a chair.
My sophomore year of college,
moving onto campus.
Unlike my brothers,
I had not been permitted,
to live away from home.
Mom said my desire to live by myself,
was the devil speaking,
I was inviting
sin,
sex,
selling my soul.
A miserable solitary year,
commuting by bus,
working extra shifts at the library,
saving every cent,
followed by a summer conversation with Dad.
“You will pay for college and not housing?”
Yes.
“I can count on this, you will pay for my tuition?”
Yes.
“Thank you, Dad. This is really a gift.
I appreciate it.”
You’re welcome.
“And - I have signed and paid for housing for next year.
I am going to live on campus. I am moving out.”
I remember
his look of surprise,
guffaw of admiration -
seeing my courage,
my swift maneuver.
I had beat the system.
It would be Thanksgiving,
some five months later,
before my mother spoke to me, and then
it was little more than
“Pass the salt shaker.”
I broke my mother’s heart,
I opened up my own.
The fluorescent light flickered
on and off,
wavering,
then settling on solid and bright,
revealing,
a room so small there was
only one way to set up the three pieces of furniture,
a narrow twin bed, desk with a chair.
I have never lived anywhere as sublime.
