Rooms

For the past several weeks, I’ve been milking Lauren Oliver’s Rooms.  In the midst of a chapter I found myself struck by the elusive muse and, following her prompting, scribbled down this poem.  I hope you enjoy it.  (On another note, I’ve changed my site’s url, so now it’s aweebiteccentric.  I’ve done this because I feel that it is more mature and matches the site’s identity.  Plus, I never really liked the original url anyways.)

Silent, silence:

The absence of the living.

Emptied, empty:

The rooms left behind.

Sharpened, sharp:

The words we spit.

Lighting, lit:

The fire in the basement.

Burning, burnt:

The empty shell of a house.

Going, gone:

The spirits are freed.

Copyright © 2017 by Nita Pan

All rights reserved.  This post or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

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