The delicate balance between
drawers and dresser contains
the personality of the bedroom
piece. Whether it's called bureau,
commode, highboy or simply
a chest of drawers, its disposition
is destined by the tongue in groove
of the fit of drawers to cabinet.
Drawers ajar, strangely angled,
calls for assistance shouted
from the ill-fitted oak mark
the lack of created skill. Sired
by uncertain hands, the tongue
lolls loosely out of the mouth
of the imbecilic wood. Socks
are destined to peep beneath
the folds of speech. Their obscene
toes lick their cornered chops.
Foot in mouth teeters dangerously
between decorum and decadence
in the corner of the room. It bids
me enter an ill-fitted world where
who I am and what is wanted
never matches. Argyles and stripes
seek a destiny where only silken
solids are allowed. Woolen threads
are coarse and scratch the surface
in ways the feet can never hide.
