Sketch of a poem

The scratches in the brown back
of the leather chair
will always be there
a testament to the chaos
of coasters
shielding the coffee table from concentric rings
moments mapped in the finish
the repetitiveness of a mug in the corner
the allure of two wide stemmed wine glasses
interlocking in empty space
the glossy magazines whose pages cover
the noise of potential conversations
with a disinterested gasp, rapid
as clumps and sheets peel off
the thumb’s grain, a slow woomp woomp
not at all like the blades of a helicopter
lifting off and over a desert landscape.

— Mobile Post

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