simple glory - ekphrasis 6

for Beth Ayer



the oatmeal got cold this morning
sitting in the yellow chair

that by the stairs such an effect
as weather would procure on Sundays

memorable dates and clusters of
white laundry in corners hidden

from birds and bowls of sweets
with fashioned covers like lips

painted pink and pursed and kissed
until all the candy is gone

the wet mop bucket by the table
treater of song to dump the words

a poor man's wedding night to
the simple glory of a terrible storm.