Enter the Room

If you enter the room from the southwest,
The sun may be completely hidden, blinding
If you turn around. You must keep minding
Your direction. I’d say north is best,
But that’s just national bias. I’ve confessed
My dark Canadian roots, severe and binding,
How they weave about my stilled feet, winding
Consciously, a sermon and a test.

Inside the room, there’s little unused space:
The plaques for Henry and Elizabeth
(Too many spouses, not enough), and Death
Filling the air with scent. Here is some lace:
When you enter the room, cover your face,
Pretend no time has passed, and hold your breath.