To Open a Shutter

She will shudder
To spend one night in the attic;
The harlequin clutter
Blown about and erratic.

Observe the tempest of time.
Old textiles, old dress-up frays
Gone biting as lime,
Mordant in their clichés.

Their fire yet to be sated --
An intangible fire
Of the fads contemplated,
Now resigned to their satire.

An ancient toaster,
Skeleton fried to its demise.
Frightening shots of a rollercoaster
Conjure up the lies

Told to wheedle
Her on there.
A sewing needle
Hooked on the curtains fair.

The stoic fridge,
Now unsuitable for any outlet.
On its conceited ridge,
Will it forever sit?

Observe the tempest of time.
Old textiles, old dress-up frays,
Outfits pieced like slant rhyme
On which she used to graze.

Would she open a shutter
To cleanse the attic?
To banish the clutter,
So peaceful, so static?

by loquist62
posted on 07/29/2008