The Fieldstone Review

Notice of Occupancy

Come in, come in;
I’m Anna Pest from Budapest.

Hope you like the verb appeal
the bush trimmed
the clutter gone
the garbage out – I swear
(mouth washed out with soap and water).

In today’s competitive market
the staged hoem sells well.
Remove personal effects
memory frames
possessive pronouns
paint a neutral décor
beige bedspread blotting out
last night’s lovemaking
like a maid hired by a hotel that serves>/span>
mass market metaphor enjambed
at breakfast.

Leave an empty structure
for the buyers to step in and
see themselves.

Some may tromp in on trochaic feet
or waddle like a pterodactyl
but my pentameter of hardwood floor
will echo my
  bs,   this
gouge out an “I” for an eye that
also perceives the world through a Self.

I’ll grant you an objective correlative
if you’ll pardon the nudes dancing
on the wall
the offending books on healing from trauma
the batik from Cape Verde dangled on thumb-tacks
hanging in the hall
the sighs
rustling the curtain
trapped in the shower stall
and the scattered midnight scribbles next to
the bedside pharmacopia.

The poem is not for sale.
I will not vacate these premises while you pay me
a visit
catch your reflection in the
I of the mirror
as we live in the space between words
our worlds