a space for me {poem}

finally - the luxury is mine/

of a chair that’s comfortable and threadworn and not-terribly-unpretty/

well. most of the time. it’s mine.

the luxury of a/

single/

vintage/

table, with a designer’s hand-stamp,

and a secret drawer to keep secrets in/

(gifted, of course.)

a blanket-throw that’s colorful like me/

that nobody else lays claim to/

(bought on sale, of cou…