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"Walls" (by Joe DiMino)

You need 4 walls for a room—
Doors are optional
When built from
The inside out;
Mine have no windows,
Having found looking off
Into distance
A distraction—
(No kitchen and toilet puns,
For this is not about
Consuming and venting)—
My room is also
Fairly square—
A thing I have
About measured evenness;
Even wiggle room
Must be precise
And within margins (not true wiggle, I guess)—
My worlds (more than one) (more than one room) (more than one interior)
Are generally a ballance between
Something I have
And something I want;
Someone I know
And someone unknowing—
Walls-doors-windows,
Rooms for all in me—
The compartment-self;
One room at a time
Or a full house—
I stand in the foyer
Of a new dwelling—
Having entered through a garden (I believe)—
Gardens can be rooms
Of structured rows
And eclectic colors;
Charming picket fences
For tidy framing;
Far off mountains
Are just larger walls
Of bigger rooms;
Even flatlands
Stretching miles away
Meet only greater walls
Of horizon-sky—
Though I’m certain,
I included,
Most of us have been inclined
to think
Of sky as
Ever expansive—
But birds,
So-called
Diminutive thinkers,
Wisely show us
The limits to high—
And when reasoning further,
For it is just my
Perpetual way,
At point Z
When all faculties
Fail me—
In vast increments
My knowable line before me
Stretched out—
At the end
Eternity becomes
An incomprehensible wall—

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