In the room of reality
In the room of history, superior ancestors watched
you from the gold-rimmed portraits on the ugly
brown wallpaper, like eagles eyeing their prey
from high in the sapphire sky.
In the room of opposites, quiet children watched
as the teacher demonstrated a toad, lying lazily on
the ragged rocks eating flies.
In the room of shapes, turquoise triangles morphed into
sapphire, superior squares, frowning at the ruby, rather round
circles.
In the room of worries, the fear of celebrities were whispered
worriedly to the quilts knitted together, as quietly as possible,
where the yarn is made from the tears they cried.
In the room of readiness, sumo wrestlers charged at each other
with the force of a train, whilst birds, startled by the neighbour’s
cat went into automatic flight mode, like a bolt from a plasma
ball.
I stood in the room of wonder, gazing up at the doors with
flowy gold writing appearing in front of the oaken doors.
I stood in the room of loneliness, grey thunder clouds appear
as the world gets shadier and shadier.
I stood in the room of sage, where vases where filled with
sticks of sage, to bring calamity to an end and calmness to take
over. Like a lullaby for a restless baby.
I stood in the room of victory, beaming at the gold-plated medals
on the hollow wall. This was as rewarding as being your teacher’s
favourite.
I stood in the room of ambition, photographs of celebrities
who have the dream job I hope to achieve.
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