The room I have now is narrow,
Narrow
Like a coffin.
As plain and as straight
And as tight as a coffin.
Two corners at the end of it,
Are rounded off where the head lies.
Ugh!
In the bed, you stiffen
And look down at your feet
As if buried.
On the right side is the high bureau,
On the left side is the high desk—
How high and stiff and black they are!
How high and stiff and black they are
And what is “I” dwells in the cañon between,—
Where at any moment the narrowness may tumble and fall in upon me!
How far off the ceiling appears over my eyes!
At the coffin’s head one window;
At the coffin’s foot, one chair.