Saturday, April 6, 2013


Last night I stayed in a hotel
I couldn’t hear neighbors, but
I knew I slept on layers, others
who shared pillows, mattress
laundered sheets, cleaned bath
and it seems intimate and weird
for their ghosts inhabit the space
and now my ghost is there and I
wonder at whether anyone else
has had a sense of former guests
who lied down to rest soul and body
against mental and physical fatigue 
multitudes of neighbors share beds
we never know one another
yet we share a form of intimacy
in hotel rooms on lonely nights


  1. This is amazing, Willow. Never thought about this kind of thing when staying in a hotel room, but I am sure there ARE ghosts of previous guests in each room. Intimacy, yet each alone.

  2. This resonates Willow but in a difference sense from that of your poem.

    When residents in our home die and the room is cleared and redecorated - I still visualize them there and think of how many the room has served as a temporary home, and how many it will serve in the future. I find it sad.

    Thank you for your kind and thoughtful comment on my post - it is much appreciated.

    Hugs to you and your hubs.

    Anna :o]

    PS I have noticed on blogs that the American term for death appears to be 'passing.' Not so here in the UK - just thought I should let you know should 'die' appear brutal.