CHAIR Poem by Marije Langelaar

I stood next to a table and it disconcerted me that I was so
alone and all of a sudden I heard a knocking
very softly it is true but something made itself known.
It was so subtle that I had to kneel down, that is how I
found the chair and I touched the wood the way you
touch a tongue, I placed my finger in a vein, twilight
instantly fell and animals stood all around us.
By then I was not much bigger than a pin-point and
intrinsically drunk the chair transmitted to me its thoughts,
fairly technical but followed by the rustling of trees
briefly, for a second or three I became chair. It was blissful, blissful
that wood in my vertebrae! The knock in my leg, an existence
without blood or thoughts. And to stand still eternally. And
lifted up. And always that function and an
intrinsic blowing emanating from the trees.