F W Finney


House Lag Poem by F W Finney


The guests have left
their fingerprints on the walls
of our now quiet house.

The chairs point in all directions
like messy hair.

They are in the air now-
probably somewhere over
the Bay of Bengal.

And here we are,
a couple again

picking up coasters and
dirty glasses;

tracing our steps
across the week's backyard
looking for patches of unmown grass;

wondering among the weeds
how we fared as hosts,
regretting our choices of certain restaurants
and the city's endless sedative traffic;

remembering things
we forgot to do.

Submitted: Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, February 11, 2014

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

A slightly different version of this poem appears on pages 61-2 in
The Dissolution of the Sparkling Bridge.
(1997: Suksit Siam-Bangkok, Thailand)

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