Poem: Stuck

 

Stuck

  

the dresser flaunted caterpillar knobs,

climbing as it was the walls. 

 

the mirror wore always only itself,

a coat of light too threadbare for warmth,

while the giraffe-neck lamp

claimed curious, constant danger.

 

a few too many light sockets

mastered their two-faced masks,

slits and half-circles fine of fettle,

caricatured to both sob and spy.

 

there were bears in the carpet,

wolves under the piles.

the sheep hung in dark niches

from triangular gallows.

 

the creak of a hissy fan

ignored this stuck room,

antsy and yet efficient

in the blur of its guillotines

and yet

 

the plump flowers on the walls 

couldn't escape the oceanic wallpaper,

their phoney petals stuck,

shades of yellow-going-grey

and yet

 

if a forehead hit a bloom,

bashing the false depth, so hard,

surely the knockout 

would hear the shriek.

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8/27//24