Carpeted Floor

2009

Sitting in the basement on the carpeted floor,

It’s quiet because the furnace just kicked off;

Wintertime--you stare at a strange shadow and a

Strip of warm light, there’s a hazy blurry sound,

A mumbling rift. Maybe it’s the T.V. on low upstairs.

 

You imagine the flickery blue and whites across the room

With the light turned out. You can’t make out the voices,

It sounds like your head when no one’s around,

Then the voices stop.

 

I repose my posture--hands back and shoulders

Supporting my neck like a scarf. The new weight

Presses against the soft carpet in a strange spot;

Crackly plastic--the carpet’s underwear.

 

I picture someone I love, I see a seashell;

The big one I had as a kid.

I come in close to her, my lover; and put my ear

Up to hers like the shell.

I wonder if her thoughts might echo and soothe me

Like the ocean did in my room.

 

She’s not there though and neither is the shell.

Instead, just chilly little bumps to remind me of the open space.

The silence reminds you of who you are

With only still objects to inquire.

You can both fear and digress to something distracting

Or stare at your ghost.

 

I stare at my ghost--I’m inside--there’s a strange recall of

Dreams and real things that have happened to me:

 

A red wagon and a Raggedy Ann near a farm on a rocky road.

The wind breathes in and then a line-dance of the corn

Along the road which rattles a bit.

 

The farm is your grandfather’s and your travel by foot

Is from there to old Effie’s. You can see it just up ahead,

A forest of a place where only memories of the inhabitants

Lie broken under board and nail.

 

There’s something special here hidden in the shed--

An old steel wheeled green tractor,

A treasure I’m taking Ann to see.

 

 

I slip through the rusty doors chained mostly shut,

The sun is low enough to light up the tall grass which Is peeking through the back shattered wall.

This treasure is foreboding and filled with cobwebs;

The sun hits the dust covering that rusty green and

The ancient machine looks supernatural.

 

I turn from the tractor and back into a deep shadow;

I see the moon full.

Twisted roots and tree trunks accompany me

As I admire the lake far below

Nervously painting a lunar sky.

The light from the moon sees my surroundings

In a beautiful blue grisaille;

Two painters and I in the middle;

A perfect breeze accompanies.

 

These visions blend one into the other

As I question my motives.

Then the visions stop.

I shake my head like the corn but my ghost

Stares back.

 

I see my lover dressed in green and rust.

She’s standing over me

In steel-toed boots and her face

Is pale white against her bright red hair.

She’s telling me what I want again like the moon and The treasures of childhood.

Like a clown at a birthday party

With his animal balloons.

The different sizes and shapes

Held together by one common thing—trapped air!

 

I’m held together by trapped memories,

A ghost who haunts and guides me;

Telling me who my friends and lovers are--

 

Something that comforts and takes the edge off:

Like soft soft skin

Like the sole of a shoe

Like the sound of a sea shell

Like the carpeted floor.

 

 

 

 

 

© 2001-2010 Eric Ridge