In My Darkened Living Room

 

in my darkened living room

the television shines on

as it always has

with our favourite movies

though no need now

to turn up the volume

so you can hear a little better

its colours casting a surreal glow

over that favourite seat on the couch

where you used to sit

and when the party went late enough

as it often did

where you would sleep

 

a bottle of wine chills in the refrigerator

as it’s always been

only a few steps away

unable to satisfy my thirst

the same way again

and though I will invite others

to drink with me

none of them could ever recreate

your articulation  

historical story telling

clear and bright as the sun

you ran under as a boy in Cuba

in my darkened living room

 

in my darkened living room

the telephone sits strangely quiet

never again to ring

with your daily check-in

roast broiling in the oven

as it always will

with potatoes and onions

cooked just the way you love them

and though from now on

you’ll be late for supper

every so often

I’ll still set a place for you

just as I know

you’re saving a seat for me

where you sit drink and dine

finally free

of arthritis and pace maker

with your new neighbours

Pablo Neruda

Ernest Hemingway

 

© 2006  Chris Sorrenti

photo © Maureen Glaude