Writing poems after "The Hideous Chair" by Erin Belieu has proven to be a hugely fruitful prompt. We've got another homage to it up today! Enjoy!
Glossy black panes of wood
Built from the sweat and tears
of mother and daughter slaving away over
the Ikea instruction manual’s
hieroglyphs--thin black lines
drawn to resemble the work
of a third grader.
The twin turrets that
have housed wayward princes and
daring quests and magic that
sprouts from the roots of all the earth,
that flows from an untapped essence of
humanity thicker and darker than the
culmination of every teardrop of spilt blood,
has held an immortality that would cause
ice shards to prickle the leathery skin of
the long expired Ponce de León.
These cookie-cutter, factory produced
towers of black wood that sit along the
wall of my room carry within them
the Sisyphean weight of many lifetimes;
of Gatsby’s, of Katniss’s, of Darcy’s and Medea’s and
by Kayden Rodger, age 18