Marie, apartment 5C, floor 11
by Emalisa Rose
Seldom at ease, in a world that
forgot her, now becomes norm for
the spinster, 5C, floor eleven. The
walls growing flowers, robins are
wearing their wings for her, on day
99, paused in the funk and the fury
of what’s become now. Through the
filigree of branch over branch, birds
become focal point, morpheme and
muse to her state of attrition, as life
leans towards parody. In the semi-
charmed state, Marie becomes numb,
embracing the reign of recluse, this
Tuesday, dark morning, seeking the
sparrow’s song.
Process notes: It is based on observations of living in a neighborhood, sometimes for years, yet many neighbors remain nameless. Sometimes we are fearful to get to know someone other than giving a quick ‘hello’ or nod. In these most troubling times, behind the closed doors, someone may be hurting emotionally, feeling alone, without anyone reaching out to check on them. This is sadly more pressing for the elderly. My great-aunt, who lives alone, very far from me, is fortunate to have someone that does look in on her, unlike Marie in 5C, floor 11.
When not writing, Emalisa Rose enjoys crafting and birding. She volunteers in animal rescue. She lives by the beach, which provides much of the inspiration for her art. Some of her work has appeared in Mad Swirl, Literary Veganism, Writing in a Woman’s Voice and other wonderful places. Her latest collection is On the whims of the cross currents, published by Red Wolf Editions.