The Inhabitants; The Players
Ally
The feathered thing wakes from its post in the rafters,
and glibs slick down the walls to my feet.
It lurches on beside me in silent laughter as I make my rounds,
walk the halls, check the locks, off with the switches, shut the blinds,
Me and the lights, we are heaving together in time – like a family.
We pass doors, me, the lights, the feathered thing,
who, when too unruly, I soothe too sweetly, murmuring:
“You are my great albatross, my great winged sea-beast,”
and it calms, climbs the walls, and passes for shadow
weaving in and out of doorways, a visitor, as it would if it were.
Out of reverence, we keep facing only forward, the three of us
regarding one another in profile, for the comfort of our tenants.
For some, my feathered thing passes uninterrupted,
the inhabitant electing to stay shut-door anonymous,
and nothing bleeds out but a slant of light from the floor-gap.
We let these be – they aren’t ready yet.
and glibs slick down the walls to my feet.
It lurches on beside me in silent laughter as I make my rounds,
walk the halls, check the locks, off with the switches, shut the blinds,
Me and the lights, we are heaving together in time – like a family.
We pass doors, me, the lights, the feathered thing,
who, when too unruly, I soothe too sweetly, murmuring:
“You are my great albatross, my great winged sea-beast,”
and it calms, climbs the walls, and passes for shadow
weaving in and out of doorways, a visitor, as it would if it were.
Out of reverence, we keep facing only forward, the three of us
regarding one another in profile, for the comfort of our tenants.
For some, my feathered thing passes uninterrupted,
the inhabitant electing to stay shut-door anonymous,
and nothing bleeds out but a slant of light from the floor-gap.
We let these be – they aren’t ready yet.
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Ally (SC '23) is an English/Creative Writing major at Scripps that enjoys words, word-related things, and thing-related words.
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