Stephanie Moves Out II

by hannah

The night before.  The room
Condenses and condenses.  She
And her closer friend converse
About trifles; sunburn.  The length
Of the day.  The Indigo Girls

Serenade the dewing.  I notice
That her desk-chair is gone;                                                  
In it's place is varnished wood,
Shiny in the 1950s style, as if
It had been licked with sugar.

Oh.  The conversation has turned
To wistful -- note to note, she
Relates a moment on the sidewalk,
Where she met a yesterday lover
And said goodbye.

This is what the room has become:
Me and my belongings filling half a gap,
A collapsible chair, folding from her seat
To a neat pile of wood.  The first to praise
The sun, the first to praise the moon, she
Almost sleeps in the tomorrow car.

Oh.  Wait.  I thought I had finished,
But after a moment when they stop speaking,
And the other has started to coo the cat, and                                  
She stands turned, packing up the computer,
I realized I had something left to say.                                        

Accourding to Mytili Jagannathan:

Date: Thu, 20 May 1999 14:43:23 -0400 (EDT)
From: (Mytili Jagannathan)

Hi hubverse--I loved reading Hannah's poems for her departing
roommate--particularly the double-play on "condensing" as dewing and
collapsing, the surprise of trying to imagine a surface "licked with
sugar" and also the collapsing of time--the "yesterday lover" and the
"tomorrow car" against the oddly stretching, emptying present.  Hannah,
what a vivid and wonderful sendoff gift!