Hermit Poem by Brian Rihlmann

You cannot walk
among them anymore,
cannot step
into the town square,
a courtroom where
smiling faces shine
like glaring spotlights
into the dark shambles
of your innermost room.

If you try to
explain the mess,
they just laugh,
and tell you to
open the curtains
and let the light in.

Open the windows
and air the place out,
dust the cobwebs
from the corners,
and rearrange the furniture,
maybe get rid
of all these boxes,
throw a fresh coat
of white paint on the walls.

But you've done all that before
and by some strange gravity,
everything reverts back
to its default state,
as you stare in disbelief.