The Hostess
—Emily Adams-Aucoin
The Hostess
My mind is many-roomed & the windows
all face out. Oh, to be the person I once was;
perfect & not self-despising. Why do we think
we deserve transcendence? I’ll say it:
these breaks in sun will ruin me.
The space between where I am
& where I want to be is white-walled
& high-ceilinged. Even so,
in the right light, my life is radiant; I think
I wouldn’t trade this for anything.
But then the light changes & the spell is broken.
Darkness saunters in—
sure-stepped, total.
It’s like this: everything about my life remains
the same, but I move restlessly through
rooms of joy & rooms of sorrow
like a hostess cleaning up after a party,
then returning to her bedroom, alone, to sleep.
About
EMILY ADAMS-AUCOIN is a writer whose poetry has been published in Electric Literature’s “The Commuter,” Split Rock Review, Meridian, and Colorado Review, among other publications. She reads for Arboreal Literary Magazine, Kitchen Table Quarterly, and Variant Literature. She currently lives in South Louisiana. You can find Emily on social media @emilyapoetry.