Rooms

Rooms by Odin Roark How prescient that first room The one where under the bed Proved private the light Where flashlight and toy soldier Became all that was needed Came The room with desk Where locked door Gave entrance to video games While parents assumed study Came SATs where drawn curtains No boom box Only silence And the study focus Made the room Came The dorm room With beer-can-crushing-to-the-head roommate Making for final exam hell Where stolen passions With sorority queen fantasy Made eating A non sequitur Came The office walls The room for fortune Made eventually corrupt With drawn curtains Came Marriage’s bed-room That place where all became prescient again Where a child would validate a wife’s existence While with loving acceptance A husband’s duty would be carried out Came… Came… The rooms never stop Some their final architecture That of nursing home green Other’s of palm-frond-shack freedom Still others… Soho 3-story condo prison Rooms Always unknown Until they’re not Forever a four-wall measure The capsule The coffin Chosen destiny One way Or another