We moved into the place next door
It’s a mirror reflection of the old place
The windows, the closets, the mail drop,
The heat vents
They’re all backwards now
The sun shines through the windows
At different times of the day
I dream backward dreams
And if we get up in the dark to go to the bathroom
We nearly always end up in the closet
Horribly confused
We live through the looking glass
There’s even mirrors on each side
Of the separating wall
In the matching opposite place.
So when we look into the mirror
It’s like seeing our old place
Like seeing the old us
Doing what we used to do
Backwards
1999
{I really like this poem, and it brings back some great memories. But frankly, I just wanted to give myself an opportunity to post some Christmas photos in February. Sneaky.}
2 Responses
Brooke, nice photos and nice poem!
I’ve been thinking of what your poem could mean. It makes me think of ways we try to change our lives (jobs, moving, etc.), but how often those changes don’t really make us happier or innately different in the end.
What were you thinking of when you wrote this?
I was literally just describing our move, but what you said is kind of what I get out of it, too. My husband and I probably moved once a year (or more) the first 5 years we were married. I also had a habit of getting a drastic haircut about once a year too, just for the change. And once we moved I was just as dissatisfied with something about the new apartment, and when I’d had the haircut, I was just as insecure as before.
This poem reflects that sort of inner conflict–the desire to change something, but knowing deep down that it’s the wrong thing to change.