Nothing of that old house was square.
Shut doors were framed with triangles of air.
A marble rolled the length of notched pine floors.
Flaws were the reason it could be ours.
And what is thunder, and what makes stories end?
Answers that we could like gods invent.
We slept as a Venn diagram below the drumming rain.
The soil outside was ashes stashed with bottles and one foreign coin.
Aligned on the sill—brown, amber, jade—played by the sudden sun like a scale.
We said different things: the sound of clouds colliding, the sound of when empty space fills.
Sadiqa de Meijer’s most recent books include The Outer Wards, a book of poetry, and a collection of essays called alfabet/alphabet. She lives in Kingston.
This Year, The Walrus Turns 20
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As we look at Who We Are Now in 2023, help us power the next 20 years of inspiring conversations and fact-checked journalism. Donate to The Walrus today.
With thanks
Jennifer Hollet
Executive Director
Jennifer Hollet
Executive Director
