Interior Accents, Denmark

— 19th c. oil, C. Sørensen

When I am in 
"these rooms," as all say when sober,
 I know the autobiography of "this room" 

has to differ from biographies 
of other space. In the following way:
the room, I; the room, it. 

I (said the room) I am tree-top cones, 
I am many sprigs; 

you, I said of it, are my childhood lodge, the bureau bearlike, 
the table a horse, and we all have glass pulls for eyes, 
accents. 

What if there were a corner missing? 
The bio of this room is that 

it tends to heal, or tenderly heals. 
Will collect its corner. 

This room has been 
to emergency and back. 
It's come home. 
There is no telephone 

to my interior
but it is the place where someday intention 
will dial invention. My room will 

smell of ethyl on a rayon cotton ball 

as the atoms of a wound 
sting, sanitary 

as a name on a door, in common office font. 
How much interiors need wood—beam ceiling, 

floor, chair, lintels, and sills and picture frames. 

Accents, but forbearing. 
Flowers, fruit, candle 

with jugs, vases, bowls. 
Two stoles, over table, over chair. 

I need accents too, strengths for my stresses. 
Need to stress those things 
against the pyrrhic.