As soon as the door shuts, the book
comes down. Gravity her new best friend
steadies the tome on its delicate wend
down to the kitchen table. Voluminous
pictures of 7th century life fill space;
floating red diadems, lurking Lu,      bubbles

Simple green leaves and Indian eyes
will comfort her. Gold flecks of paint, dissolving
into grooves of her fingerprints
will remove


The table, now a map more than a shrine
will be dismantled. Before 4pm.

How many revolutions through a living room
does it take to erase



© Tara Linda

Author: tara linda

musician, poet, art and jewelry-maker

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