The Room of Love

 Stephen Morrissey



From A Private Mythology, Ekstasis Editions, 2014 (forthcoming):

We sit eating supper
at small wooden tables,
the kind with folding legs
that collapse to be stored
when not used; I sit
on the edge of the bed
while you are on the love seat
only feet across from me,
bundled in a maroon blanket
looking like the child
you were, adorable
at age eight with feet
not reaching the floor;
the room is illuminated
by a single sixty watt
incandescent light bulb
inside a brown lampshade,
and the small black Grundig
radio is tuned to Radio Classique
from Ile Ste. Helene.

It is this moment,
sitting here, eating supper
together, when the room
seems the only place
that exists; outside these walls
there is outer space
and darkness—stars, moons,
planets, asteroids, comets,
and black holes—and beyond
space, God, angels, and saints
are in a chorus of celestial music,
but even God can’t stop
the slow turning wheels of endings
and beginnings that remind us
of our mortality—only love
seems to transcend time and space—
and perhaps God stands in silence
in the presence of love.
Some lovers know the room
of love, placed at the center
of existence, and having
visited this room they know
the meaning of life is fulfilled
and nothing has been in vain.

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