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Beth Murray – as if

Beth Murray
as if

information were its own weight
the tight bounce
of a basketball, the interior
decorators know and seek
to live magnificently
(without pills) their children
hold onto bedposts their
feet fly up
but might not sign if the leather sof-
curtain crashes, heavy with
millions of viewers drawing their lips the velvet
plunges, rebounds –
a fresh haircut shed quick as
webbed feet or a paddle in November
pollen clings to dust and grass the terrible
skewering plush as the mourning dove
the decoy
wonders, eyes the last rung
milling in the lobby, cataracts
glazing their disappearing choices – insects
of light who inhabit, feel along
the wainscoting, finger the numbers on each
planning its escape the purple wind

when not protecting is quite soft
not until other people in the room do
you accommodate, shorten

your thoughts, shorten your breath
hoop earrings and round cheeks against
rainbow pillows swell

(when it rains)
they touch

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