Joe Bisicchia

Pink Sofa - Poem by Joe Bisicchia

Can't remember the clothes she wore,
if any,
but I can still see that bright pink sofa,
puffed with slender curves,
and its back firm in trimmed wood
carved with kissing birds.
Something special about French provincial.
It is no wonder kingdoms go to war
over such furniture.
Blessed and heroic are those who die for more.
Yet, oh, material, all the shapes of your lore!
Silly how hearts shape south and north.
Easy to lose sight of her and see fabric, objects,
bits and pieces, stuff, in attics of regret.
For this, everyday, we lay down our lives
upon puffed curves of velvet.

Published in Black Heart Magazine,2013

Topic(s) of this poem: greed, ignorance, warfare

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, October 16, 2016

Poem Edited: Saturday, October 22, 2016

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