it’s not only that i have no furcoat
but the wardrobe smells too new,
alumium frames &doors slide
soundless almost as they
ssshhhhccchhhss//pLopp
i sit on the carpet
think about the cat, sneaking on soft paws
from one end of my notebook
screen to–
&who knows
i never asked her
&she never says a word
so far we put 12hours into building this
miles to go,
a thousand little parts, strewn across the floor,
my knees and back ache,
hammer in one hand,
a battelfield of tiny nails dancing steel-jazz melodies
“we need the left nook//next frame” &
i grab an allen wrench, swirl faceless maggot screws
into a sea of fitting holes
&rain pours on the rooftop
it was snow back then,
a misplaced streetlamp
in a wondrous forest
&my heart exploded in my ears
the fear
of first steps
“can we turn// the frame?”
in the milky glass i see my face for only–
“did you sketch the lamp?”
“i//no but–”
“did you talk to anyone except–?”
“there was a poem– ” i say,
pausing on the flakes soft surface,
“it had wings and in a way it felt a bit like–
it got never finished”
“doesn’t have to?”
“yeah, but”
“think we’ll fix the right door first &”
“is it deep enough?”
a puff of wind, scent of trees
&woodsmoke
“two more clamps to go”
&a lion’s wild, majestic roar//
somewhere
in the distance
Those project with all the little screws – and the smell of new furniture. There is something that will come after we used it a long time.. The smell of wool and meetings – it points toward a future. Much like poem that you read over and over will change its meaning.
Ah, Ikea has a lot to answer for…
Almost puts one off new furniture!
I love the contrast between the scent of trees/woodsmoke and the two more clamps to go…
Hi Claudia–so nice to see you! I really enjoyed the back and forth between your own worlds and C.S. Lewis here–the cat a kind of interesting intermediary for Aslan (ha!), and the wish for magic to come into the world–of course, it’s there already as you show. Thanks! k.
I loved the sesnse of smell you’ve given your poem. In fact it’s a very sensorial piece. Thanks, I really loved it.
Greetings from London.
I spent many hours with my dad (when he was still alive) putting furniture together. Look out for the one screw that inevitably seems to get left over.
It sounds like it’s all coming together!!!
Assembling furniture must be up there with root canals? That is for some of us. Your thoughts and poem took a lovely respite from the job at hand.
“swirl faceless maggot screws” … What great phrasing.
Bringing poetry and Lewis into the poem…I like that. You know your wrenches. At first my mind first read alien instead of allen and I realized, yes, wrenches are alien to me. Hope you like your new wardrobe.
Brought the smell to life indeed, putting furniture into one piece cn sure be a pain in the butt
First steps can come with a lot of fear, especially if you are stepping into the wardrobe. “He’s not safe, but he is good.” It changes everything, when we take that step through, and there are other ways than just through the furs, of course.
I can not put my finger on it completely, but the line that jumped out at me was:
“it had wings and in a way it felt a bit like–
it got never finished”
It has me thinking.
Por Vous:
condensation & ice
edge the window glass & reflections
of christmas lights
move under my fingers
like braille –
i don’t know
what they say yet
only the anticipation,
so i wait & watch for the empty
trees to translate.
Loved how people real and not, events in the poem and in life get mixed here…but I respect you fixing by yourself the furniture…wow…. “a lion’s wild, majestic roar’ in the distance – maybe the reward you dream about…
Ha! the long awaited wardrobe…..didnt know you had to assemble it yourselves. Agh! I most love the thoughts flying back to the forest and “there was a poem”…….
Nothing like a new wardrobe! No need for a street lamp when all is so very new. The lion can wait. Smiles.
If you leave the back off the wardrobe you might just step into a Narnia winter…where you’ll need a fur coat 🙂
“a battelfield of tiny nails dancing steel-jazz melodies” – oh yes!
I didn’t catch the C S Lewis connection until I read Manic’s response..in that light this is a delight….already was a poem that made me appreciate the emotions that go into making a wardrobe.