The Hotel (2010)
There’s a blue violin in the foyer.
There’s a picture of Sacha Distel.
I would ask you to play it, but know that I can’t
as we don’t know each other that well.
Seven monkeys are watching the station
to see who goes in or comes out.
One stands in his own pool of lamplight.
One checks on his brothers for doubt.
There’s a woman who sits in the basement
slowly drowning in old books and time.
Her face is a song made of parchment.
Her hands are cathedrals of grime.
There’s a window that no one looks out of.
Its shutters are varnished with sin.
I want us to go and walk round to the garden
to stand on the grass and look in.