Inception [poem] by Lynne Shapiro

In heaven, there is no dust
the furniture is always polished
the period rooms ordered
the first room, naptime:
Ozone Park, Queens,
sun streams in from the alleyway.

I stand in my crib
let down the side slats
take leave of the afternoon plan
pull myself onto a chair
sneak open the top drawer
I’m not tall enough to see in

a handkerchief
of ragged white moths escape
so many I cannot hope
to catch them all
and set the room right.

 

Image of 1930s Switchboard Operator

[Refer: This poem put the editors in mind of Robin Turner’s poem “For the Swan at White Rock.”]

Lynne Shapiro lives and works in Hoboken, New Jersey. Her poems and essays have been included in a variety of literary publications, including terrain.org, Decomposition: An Anthology of Fungi-Inspired Poems, qarrtsiluni, Blue Print Review, and Mslexia.

Image by Donnie Rae Jones