In my mind
they combine
bathroom to sitting room
making a place for Bruno Walter,

the Picture of Dorian Grey swims above
Schubert and Die Winterreise
and the fire that warmed
that so cold room.

Servant’s corridor
resonates in my mind
leading to steps down to fear
and darkness and dark brown paint

from those far off times when a building lived –
it fell down decades ago leaving me with
nothing but memories reconstructed
half right half fantasy.

So I must construct
these rooms to make a whole
of a life torn in half – not so bad, you say
and you would be right as the richness of these

self-made fables coasts along my only life
to bring a freedom, not madness to
an imagination that holds me firm
in understanding who I am.