Birmingham
Poetry
Review
The Soul
In the dream, I knew the room was where I lived,and it was rented, maybe in a motel.
But with furniture all stacked and shoved
off to one side, it looked more empty than full.
I had to arrange what was there, which wasn't enough.
I had to invent. Something from nothing. Stuff
to fill that space and make it habitable.
Of course, since it was hardly a place to call
my permanent home, and since I was surrounded
by strangers, some in rooms next door to mine,
who said things I could hear but not understnad,
others partying up and down the hall,
their good time close to getting out of hand,
I was careful never to let anyone in.
--Philip Dacey
Philip Dacey's current project is a book-length series of poems about Thomas Eakins. He is a regular contributor to BPR.
