The Living Room
May 12th, 2007 at 1:33 pm (Poetry)
In 1958 Mimi’s sofa won
best in show on Morningside,
the cushions plumped fat
and smiling, all three, frosting
precious and eagerly flanked by
the two tea pillows snugly
poised on cue at each arm’s corner,
they are waiting they are
waiting, but they don’t know yet
how the days, how the years, how the
dust will lounge with its heavy
ass sagging, the pressure on springs,
once coiled and patiently withstanding,
now must wear down, exhale and hang
out its gut protruding, snapping
seams wildly like buttons
struggling to hold back the ugly
that keeps pressing and pushing until
there’s nothing, nothing
nothing but the sound
of Mimi clutching in darkness
at her cushions, her coils, her crown,
patting and tucking,
sheets over shadows.
—Stacy F Wray
1993