Seen from outside, the house was perfect.
Brass quail topped faucets--a twist of hand
then moist metal beaks indented palms
as drink spouted, cold and iron-scented.

Tricycles with tinseled handlebars littered
jewel-clean aggregate & flagstone walkways.
Siamese spat under polished bureaus,
cairn terriers skulked forth to glare.
Maple chairs shouldered silk jackets,
Waterford goblets linked rainbows
to the Steinway where a metronome
echoed a click-beetle's urgency.
Split at Ruth
madam's bible fed moths silk bookmarks.

You cooled your face in the fountain
awhile as the soothing rumrumrum
of madam's Singer
invented shirts bordered with roses
and never outgrown.