spackle (interiors) (1993)

The wallpaper curls from the walls
Stains that look like coffee between cracks of plaster split
A chair torn by feline claws
Stuffing from torn fabric frayed spills forth in dusty spit
Wicker basket heaped with laundry
Sideboards pry from wall and fall because of lacquered grit

That has petrified and fossilized
Cemented to the core
Gratified and codified
Cemented like the shore
Of a frozen lake that's realized
That being frozen is a bore (the tide can never rise)

The dishes tower dirty still
Specks that cling to ceramic mountains in fear of drains
The water clouds out of the tap
Baptizing these survivors in sullen lukewarm rains
That leave just the cups and dishes
Spots that smell like paper cuts and broken hearts and strains

That have atrophied and withered down
And grown back just as strong
Black and yellows gone right back to brown
And has it really been that long
Since honesty has caused your face to frown
The walls just seem so wrong
I know that lakes can drown