LEFT

I move in this most definite space
and sometimes cannot save myself
from the comfort of order.

Towels and sheets folded neatly,
pillows aligned. Colors are on time
like the bills I always pay. I rewrite

lists and white out the names and
numbers of those I no longer need.
Punish myself if I change my mind.

RIGHT

I feel definite in this most moving space
and wonder how it pulls me in and protects
from the world of structure.

Dust settles on the blinds; I overlook it
to see what's out the window. Colors
are not punctual but float in time.

I catch the names and numbers of those
I once admired like love falling from the sky.
I am wrong, wrong, wrongly in the right.

ANN IVERSON