There is a white room that will pull your focus to the farthest corner,
where a tall lamp stands uninhibited by walls.
At first glance, the owner’s eyes must have widened at the smoothness of the iron
and dazzled by the simplicity.
Guests will not marvel at how expensive it was.
What will set off their chatter will be the gaudy lampshade that was made of velvet.
It’s bruise color spread out and down into twisted fringe.
Thin fingers hide the alabaster bulb that waits for the heat and the light to arrive.
Julia Manuel on Poem #4 ingridfalconi on Poem #4 Julia Manuel on Poem #4