This is my computer desk.
It sits in my foster daughter’s room.
Her contribution to this room is the curtain.
I liked the pastel colors she left behind
after she ran away with her boyfriend.
There is a goose feather in my cup holder
from a goose bought live for Christmas over twenty years ago.
The poor goose met his demise in one swift blow.
My husband watched the live goose before, knowing it must be fast
he hesitated and then with determination released the impact
and quickly life flickered to nothing before his eyes.
We never bought a live goose again.
You see that rope in back of the flowers?
The previous owner, Smith, had installed a rope ladder
from this upstairs bedroom, in case of fire.
He bolted it right through the stucco with big heavy bolts
exposed beneath outside under the bedroom window.
The bolts crumbled the stucco, and it is rather unsightly.
Beneath this rope is this coiled rope that could withhold the weight
of an elephant. The ladder is always in the way of the electrical outlet.
A possible fire hazard.
There’s my pica pole from pre-computer days when I spec'd type.
Later it moved on to the clatter and chatter of a newsroom.
It has my initials carved on it because people would
always walk off with it.
Another relic of a bygone era.
These are roses from my garden this morning
lightly covered in rain drops reflecting
the window the curtains and the morning light
the computer, the DVD’s, my computer glasses, pica pole
and morning cup of earl grey tea.
Looking at this still life, which has been anything but still,
it occurred to me that what you see and what I see
are totally different. What I see and what you see
may not really be there at all.