Our First Apartment

An iron-barred
plant-laden window,
guarded by the Buddha,
gating out the world.

Cold sunlight
on warm wooden floors
scratched up by a table
built for building a community
together.

Teacups.
Boardgames.
Blankets from your sister.
Books.
So many books
color coded and marked up,
separating you from me and here from
there
and

A couch you hated, and
the art.

Bay windows and
the bedroom walls
soaked with words
from whispered conversations
that drew us
deep
into the night and
into each other.

I didn’t realize it,
when we first moved in.

I swear,
It didn’t look like a battleground.

Italo Calvino on the Inferno and Suffering

“The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here, the inferno where we live every day, that we form by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become such a part of it that you can no longer see it. The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the midst of inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space.”

Italo Calvino