The Decor Imitates Nature
After 4 or 5 months I noticed the
pronounced likeness, the perfect clasping
of hands—the deep, healing bruise on my thigh.
Clay-red, blue made green by yellow; I'm twice
as much yellow as anything else. I was
furniture in that country you said I said,
was four-footed, fossils included, some
assembly required.
We had not yet learned how
everyone attaches themselves to furniture,
soft or straight-backed, like any trait
that can trail you, scratched into one's body,
a veil. You called me a bacillus, eating
sweets, in the milky light of Depression glasses
as the afternoon hours stretched
into the afterlife evening.
previously published in Phoebe 55 (1997)
Copyright © Valerie Fox 2007 - 2008