The Little Room

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There was a great reckoning.
Words flew like stones through windows.
She yelled and yelled, like the Angel of Judgment.

Then the sun shot up, and a contrail
appeared in the morning sky.
In the sudden silence, the little room
became oddly lonely as he dried her tears.
Became like all the other little rooms on earth
light finds hard to penetrate.

Rooms where people yell and hurt each other.
And afterwards feel pain, and loneliness.
Uncertainty. The need to comfort.

*******
✍ Raymond Carver (Clatskanie, Oregon, 25 May 1938 ~ Port Angeles, Washington, 2 August 1988).
◙ Artwork: Edward Hopper

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