|Arsenic Lobster poetry journal||
The Geography of a Well
Andrea D.E. Levin
Careful walk, slight flicker of his finger
along the kitchen counter to keep his balance.
This same calloused finger has spent hours
circling the rim
of a glass of undiluted
Eventually we stop hearing
the high, steady ring
that glides through the air.
Every night I clear paths for him:
through the study,
down the hall to his bedroom,
to the bathroom,
the ottoman kicked out of the way
and the toilet seat always up.
The geography of a well never changes:
The familiar dimming of light as we fall,
the same soft insulation of moss—
a dense ecosystem of darkness.
And on our backs,
the same narrowing frame of stars.