Lake Bluff Motel
Part I
Half the guests are gone
Before I roll out of bed
to peer out at the sun-starched morning.
Some of the lounge chairs
are already claimed by old men
who sit there through the day,
watching out over the lake.
The pool is littered
with children who have no fear
of water, diving boards, or sunburn.
The old men will stare
into the distance,
as if the tension in their gaze
held the children up in the water
held the sun up in the sky
On the broken walks
the maids are cataloging
soaps and towels,
taking their coffee communion.
Part II
I hear the ring of their keys
as they purify each room,
the drone of their voices
like old priests,
working with casual routine.
In the tiny rooms,
they gather in dark groups.
The living are gone.
Theirs is what has been left behind:
The covers dashed in the bed
hair in the sink
tissue in the trash.
Inhaling the odor of our spirits passing
harvesting pieces of time
molding mental figures
from the rustle we've left in the drapes.
the angle of the TV
the towel in the tub
the print in the pillow
All pressed into their minds.
Part III
They prepare the ritual stones,
tear away shrouds,
leaving altars raw and cold
The bedmaking begins with
a wave while the white billows.
Buzzing on the wind, the chant rises
while all the living
begins to dim.
Fainter now, the noise of the TV's
and the guests in the halls
Fainter the sounds from the pool.
All yielding to the resonance
rising and falling with the sheets over the beds.
Resting their eyes
The old men nod backward and asleep
their mouths open and snoring into the wail.
What was held by their vision
now rises on the new dream.
Part IV
I begin to remember
the clamor of the party last night.
I hear my son moaning in his sleep
but he is already gone
to the pool
with the other children
fading into the thin air
out over Lake Michigan
while the maids call to lives before,
pulling dim forgotten,
figures from below,
raising the dead,
these mistresses of discarded nights.
As the old men shrivel
As ghosts rise howling from their throats;
as the sun stops frozen in the sky;
as even I become what I was
and rise up from the sheets
face to face
eye to eye.