My One True Love (As of Yet)

Edward Hopper, Rooms By The Sea (1951)


Without you I am an empty house hanging above water.
Or an armchair, at least, facing the open front door.
The floor leads seamlessly to a never-ending fall.

If the sea below is rustling, I cannot hear it.
With time I have forgotten how to listen
As the sea has failed to unwrinkle itself.

What could a rotted dresser mean to me?
An old painting I do not look at, a couch the color of rust,
There may be a whole room behind me. I have not checked.

There is no one in the living room to play cards with
Or make love to. There is not even blue.
Everything except the sunlight needs dusting.

I have never grown tired of watching the sunlight
Push the doorframe’s slanted shadow from the wall.
It has been three months and I keep staring.

Its radiance
has no longing.
It is and is and is.

The light does not know it is all I want to see.
Why does it guide my gaze toward the water?
Who is the woman holding your hand?