object lesson -

in the garden there are aspens now turning yellow.
and roses, now slowing, still blooming white.
in the closets there are sweaters the colors of wet stones;
stacks of scarves so elaborate each deserves its orange box,
disregarding, perhaps,
being bound up alone.

the baccarat is ruby,
a gift given gradually,
a collection of crystal from a fragile man.
there are plates shaded like sand dunes
and flatware like seashells
and floors like a child’s blood
drawn in preschool.

there is velvet on the sofa like the sky before dusk
and leather cracked and golden like the sky after dawn.
the lamps are black lacquer
and the walls are hot chocolate
or coffee or licorice or bittersweet
to taste.

the linens on the bed will flicker like candlelight
violet and cream,
sepia and white.
the walls of the bedroom will glow in that candlelight:
strawlike and stemlike
crisp and silk striped.

and they all flicker madly
to catch your attention,
they compete and repeat their chorus to the night.

but I have your hand and your mouth and your eyesight,
and I fill your head
and I color your life.





GLS
10.30.02

No comments: