Loukia Janavaras

I can recall when the first wall
came down
it was unexpected
how the sunlight barged in
from where it was not
the motion was swift
a swoosh
a tug of blinds rolling
dust particles flying
off with the ceiling
the light
the warmth that filled
the air that brought me back
the kiss of life breathed through
the room of death forever altered.
The second and third wall are a blur
I don’t remember them still there
when or in what order
they too came down or up but not
like blinds they faded
away, edges of a painting
bleeding into walls that once held them
until they became one
and when I lean against them still
I fall into color bursts.
It is the fourth wall that remains
the one that doesn’t roll or fall or fade away
I cannot bring it down for if I do
the room will be gone, just a splatter
nothing left but a pool of paint in light and air
as if one wall can really hold up an entire room.

Copyright 2014 Janavaras