The rug that got pulled out from under us
We pulled out from under ourselves
How outdated does this dictionary have to be
For modern words
Cannot possibly compare
To crumbled, bygone leaves
Falling on your head,
like autumn materializing to unbidden fantasies
Hunching, growing weak
Bending further as you walk away
Dimming their own beam
A soft, overgrown illusion of steam
Minding its own peace, seeking its own purpose
Something bricks and bones claimed they could redeem
with just a pin
Why so much trouble, why the heavy cartridge?
Did you want the room, to engross the splashing rubber
On all fours?
I think you did
You wanted it to stick
You wanted it to dissolve into the walls, into the paint
Into the cracks,
Onto another room
It’s not the world on your shoulders
But the weight upon your feet
Have you ever dug in, eroding, to a floor you barely know?
If it’s this brutal on the surface, imagine how it’d be beneath’
This is where
judging a book by it’s cover, will do you good
It’ll do us all some good.