A contemporary poem about the farther room, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
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There is a room beyond the last room. It contains the chair we never shared and a window facing neither of us. I walk there in small permissions: one remembered laugh, one unsent message. The door stays open. The distance has stopped pretending to be empty.
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A silent shape outlasts the speaker's interpretive impatience and turns waiting into a form of encounter.
An object out of place becomes more truthful by refusing to return to where the speaker expects it.
An unlabelled form interrupts an ordinary day and makes the speaker question who was expected to arrive.
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