Leaf 102 – Reflections
Abandoned buildings have always
fascinated me. When I used to work in a museum, I was sometimes sent to an
outstation – a store where hardly anyone ever worked, and people only rarely
visited. Consequently, the building had an antique air all of its own. It felt
like it hadn’t changed in decades. One of the things that really fascinated me
was the old bars of soap by the sinks in the washrooms. Every time I looked at
them, I couldn’t help wondering how long they had been there and how long it
had been since anyone had last used them. They looked like museum-objects in
their own right, and in some cases they probably were.
In the soap dish,
brittle and yellow
as bone; the windows
closed, only sunlight
comes and goes.
This poem was first published in
dew-on-line two (2002).
Photograph credit: Mint Images / Science Photo Library
