Rondeaux de Chambre: Barbara’s Room
Gregory Loselle
Margaret Reid Poetry Contest for Traditional Verse 2010 (view all the winners)
Most Highly Commended
I
In Barbara's room the bride doll leans
askew, its legs thrust out. It seems
to raise one arm, if less to bless
or gesture in wide-eyed protest,
than stay the afternoon's esteem,
discovered in snagged lace and cream
sateen in sunlight—what she means,
both in her presence and her dress,
in Barbara's room,
uncertain. Witnessing the scene
with her, imagine Barbara Jean
long gone—the bottles on the dresser
drained, stuffed animal confessors
fallen mute, the bride serene
in Barbara's room.
II
In Barbara's room her old guitar
waits out the afternoon, aware
of stilled vibrations in its strings,
where lost potential music rings
in silence in the silent air,
and melodies unheard repair
to memory. Old songs despair—
for now, at least, nobody sings
in Barbara's room.
Consider this: the old guitar
is waiting for another player;
the instrument untouched bides time,
untuning in the corner. I'm
too young, yet, for the old guitar
in Barbara's room.
III
In Barbara's room, the canopy
above the bed hangs limpidly,
unstirring in the unstirred air.
The papier mache¥ tortoise stares
from underneath the vanity.
Her perfume bottles all agree
among themselves: their tragedy
lies in being abandoned there
in Barbara's room.
Her books, her dolls, her diary,
her correspondence, jewelry—
or what at least she didn't care
to pack and take away with her—
is left behind for all to see
in Barbara's room.
