Yellow felt, cigarette burns,
Urine stains, white polyurethane
Stuffing coming from pulled apart, chewed, cut seams.
Refuge--
Smacked...plumes of aged
Cheap, tobacco tinged dust
Flavor the history of the home.
Magical couch enchantments protect
From haunted closets
And crumbling rat-filled
Black by burned-out swinging bulb
Basement.
Protect from the familial protagonist
Who raped our family apart.
Solitude is simple:
Cover in wretched,
Hand-me-down cushions
And scream inside for everything
To stop--
For my parents
To stop--
For my siblings
To stop--
For my grandparents
To stop--
A cushion on the floor
Is mine only.
Couched--
None know the dangers
That surround.
They only see
Trampled, deadened, dalmatian named
Baby shit and piss spotted carpet:
Not the fierce
Sparring ground of shark
And barracuda
And giant squid
And vast frigates of magnificent speed and class
With battered, white sails billowing,
And rocket ships of shining metals
Blinding in reflecting the flaring sun,
And fabulous creatures in ancient, craggy mountains
Awaiting an inexperienced boy's small hands
...
Confined to my couch I long
For future places filled with Magic.
Real magic.