not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

eating better, a pear and some almonds



The Claude Glass

We are in the farmhouse again.
I think we have just made love.

I can't quite be sure but I see that
my walls are dripping a kind of puce, 

thick like honey. The clock on the wall
is as innocent as an insect performing its purview.

The cars zipping along the nearby highway
seem silly. We have been carting humble-sized

wheelbarrows full of desire
to the center of our kitchen table.

My husband is about to reach through the air
and penetrate the light to touch the circumference

of a pear. Art history books climb the walls in columns.
Poetry books tumble upon themselves 

with their slack suspenders and messy wiglets.
The problems of the world exist in a single droplet of water

which forms and falls from the faucet, 
glints in the daylight

and captures this whole scene like a concept.