Infinite Divisibility - Poem by Alexandra Reiss
I was conceived in the Gazpacho room.
I cannot decide if it is beautiful or disgusting or both at once, that I know this. I’ll let it be beautiful. The Gazpacho room can still be visited today, free to visitors, spirit seekers, pilgrims, or to anyone wandering down Moses Lane in the town of Southampton. Note the customary cast-iron jockeys that greet you with brass ring in outstretched hand: a hitching post— as if you would be arriving by horse.
If you did come to the house, third down the road, with the pool where brother nearly drowned, you would see the tree in the back, with wooden boards nailed to it that we called a fort. The tree devour the boards slowly—their disappearance coinciding with our waning interest in tree forts. If you came to the house, the house where I met my first friend, spent my first hurricane, lost my last tooth— if you walk by that house, third down on Moses Lane, where my family used to group-share summer places and god-knows what else, look up to the second floor, middle window, right above the stairs.
In that nervous sick soup-red room, I was conceived.
I’ll let it be beautiful.
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