Erica Jong

(26 March 1942 / New York City)

Hotel Rooms - Poem by Erica Jong

'Hotel rooms constitute a separate moral universe.'
-Tom Stoppard

A bed, a telephone, the cord
to the world
beyond the womb . . .
Here lovers meet, have met,
will meet again behind different faces
while the icy picures
look on,
seeing nothing.

Hotel rooms see nothing.

Business transacted,
prostitutes killed,
marriages silently shaken;
what happens here
is off the record;
there is no record
when the sheets
are changed
every night
for other guests.

& you my darling
my lover, my reader,
why are you hungering so,
why are you opening
abysses in yourself
before you rush off
to the next appointment?

Eternity is just
a hotel room-
deluxe or seedy
as the fates allow,
lonely as the loneliest
one-night stand,
& with no telephone.

Or is it the body?
Is the body the hotel room after all?
O let us inhabit it amply, crying
& screaming & embracing
before we

check out.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, March 28, 2012

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