What makes me hang delicious in your sight,
The attitude you spread across the room.
You decorate by presence and your tools,
You set me in a country priest’s delight.
I remain your mortar board and broom,
Your modern one of metal and a grip,
Sitting there you talk and make a pose,
While I sort my pieces and I float.
This poem was originally published in the February 2015 Bijou Review.