Domestic Interior

Marble Obelisk

Marble Obelisk Broken rich kids find a niche—like make-work given to the near-to-retiring. Like employment behind bars, making jeans or license plates. Little things where they file and smile to the other office mate —“New shoes?”— On their broken legs and broken feet In a little hideaway on a fashionable street, someone’s tax break. Someone’s foundation, a drug abuser’s way station. The broken plate walks from the car to the buzzer. She holds on to the rail all the way to the door of the building Like a scared, unprepared, untaught ice skater. The large, powerful horsepower of the world behind her flat candy ass. Stunted mind that goes around the spool of how unhappy how unhappy Whole, serene, and distant God knows what people will do for His money and it makes him laugh, it is so pathetic, so predictable a phone call. He writes a check to the broken plate She dusts and polishes and waxes and frets over this paper heirloom He leaves a will to her. Don’t be charitable. She will cash the check and drink her falsely gregarious wines And keep her tight self groomed and in low-heeled sandals. The jealous, murderous god Laughs behind her hesitant her nervous her little instances of sexual terror. She never had a home Never had arms to fit around her middle Never had to change a vacuum cleaner bag on her own Still, and yet, dear reader, a few are so proud of her, Making it on her own! All alone, all alone. 31 ...