I peek through madly waving curtains,
Flashing the bottom of the sky.
Stars flicker as slimy sours, my energy floating
Towards the big black eternity,
Then the curtains fall back again
And for a moment I am convinced
Life is good and all will stay the same.


A chair has been here through all of us,
Now it is unstable, the paint bladdering,
And it will only keep your clothes at night,
Not both of ours. I remember me blushing
When I saw your pants making love to my skirt.


Once we slept in a room with a carpet, our feet
Excited for every warm step, and mice gave birth there
Or so you said (how were you to know, it
Was not our house) and I saw a spider die on it.
If you know the story behind upholstery
Would you sleep? The mites, the bugs, who died between
The sheets we bought on auction?


Pillows talk when we are out, recalling our dreams
And having a laugh over our romantic escapades,
But once in a week I get back at them
Kicking them senseless, all in the name of good hygiene.


Comments on: "Upholstery" (19)

  1. I really like this, Ina. Especially the pillows!

  2. Superb, Ina, if poignant

  3. I like the oblique perspective on life that you give us here Ina.

  4. In the ordinary and mundane lies a rich potential for life! Nice reminder Ina!

  5. Now that’s a great inventory!!!

  6. Imaginative and inventive.

  7. Love this Ina! Very unusual theme and only you could do it justice! 😊❀️ xx

  8. Such a clever way to talk in this poem,,through these objects. Especially loved the chair.

  9. Brilliant as always.

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