Castle Recursion
On Tuesday
I wake early and fix breakfast
turn over the hourglass on the table
Out the door as chauffeur by 7:30
Personal trainer and nutritionist at 8:30
Errand maid at 9:30
Data Engineer from 10:30 to 3
I want to quit my job
Chauffeur again at 3
Taskmaster of homework from 4 to 5
not enough time to learn Spanish
Short order Chef at 5
Maid again at 6
Girlfriend from 7 to 9
not enough energy to learn
the language of love
dead to the world at 10
All the sand gone again
. . .
On Wednesday
I sleep till ten
A friend stops by for lunch
We sip from full cups
and let our legs dangle
in the swimming pool
She asks if I do this every day
and I wonder why not
There is a stream behind us
lullaby sound of water
rushing over rocks
and a sweet breeze urges
go back to bed
He tells me I can quit my job
spend hours in the garden turning dirt
and tending to the vegetables
till my arms are stained yellow
past my elbows
pungent smell of tomato vine flesh
lingering on my fingertips for hours
. . .
On Thursday
the sink is bottomless with dishes
Beds have unmade themselves again
Hungry fish in pond and stream bubble up
like a boiling pot
Cats with their fat naps
are awake and fighting again
Tile in the master bath is cracked
and the water refuses to drain
I spend four hours on the floor
exhausted by two in the afternoon
Cats are fighting again
I need to find the right tool
and screws for a project
Find three more projects instead
I need to quit my job
. . .
On Friday afternoon
I walk the castle grounds
Iris and Lilies and Coreopsis Moonbeam
take turns worshiping the sun
My garden is a colossal mass
of climbing vegetables
As zinnias and marigolds are my witnesses
the tomato plants are now 7 feet tall
Soon the fruit will drag their branches
to the ground
Ripened red popping
amidst all that green
I don’t want to miss a minute of this
I’ll probably quit my job
In the evening the Castle master comes home
from business and our words collide
in a rush of news from the day
A Venn diagram that intersects
at cats and children and our future
We’re planning an outing and a party
We’re scheming about tomorrow
We’re falling asleep
in the middle of sentences
. . .
On Sunday
we sleep past 8
Wake with eager arms and hands
Linger huddled in conversations
and much-needed affection
We have breakfast until noon
Venture out into the world
on one of our many steeds
in search of treasure
. . .
On Monday
I conspire with the prince and the princess
Comforted by having someone
to talk to about a plan
I begin again in the kitchen
and check the grocery list
before I leave for the market
I re-organize the pantry
and check our schedule for appointments
Stand at the sink and worry
I’m not pulling my weight here
Perhaps I should get a job
This afternoon I lie down
in the greenhouse with the cats
and listen to Arcade Fire again
Among the rocks
stacked neatly in pots
against a far wall
is an orchid in bloom.
Castle Omnipresence
This place is not necessarily haunted; it is inhabited by a force.
A dark chill loitering in the vacant basement,
conversing with the termites who are otherwise occupied with their colony plans.
Dense fog hangs in the garden
when the rest of the houses on the block are lit up by sun.
Small creatures scurry with frantic claws that scrape wood inside the ceiling
above the master bed. I pull the blankets tighter around me
and wait for larger predatory claws that follow.
Strange artifacts have been placed carefully throughout the house.
When asked, the current owner explains that they were there when he moved in. Yet,
new antiques appear almost weekly. The force feels ever-present—observing
but never interfering in our daily lives.
It reminds me of something I heard about God—supernatural
and subject to mood swings and unnatural occurrences.
I wonder if I should offer gifts
or learn how to pray.