Wednesday, August 11, 2010

St. Clare of Assisi (patron of television)

when you play with history,

things get rough.

after rolling around

on this thick and bristling carpet,

your knees look like scoops

of pink ice cream.

they melt. they collapse under

the great weight of time.

I stare hard at the wall.

the cracks turn into faces,

the moulding into outstretched arms.

those bones keep our roof

aloft. if this were a house of God,

all the floorboards would be shining.

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