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Female, useful, you keep your dignity though your lap’s full of odd socks, haphazard mending. You were old sixty years ago, dressed in Goodwill’s sad maroon stain, scarred with nailholes that once secured cane. I stripped you, refreshed you with paint the color of cantaloupe flesh, and later with gay yellow. Now dowager, throne, your sturdy arms bear up my weight when my thighs sigh and I need assistance to rise. Patient, four-legged mount, I think you will outlive me. Last of a set of five, kept when I let go of the side chairs, I will leave you to heirs.
Copyright 2022 Arlene Weiner
Arlene Weiner’s books include More (Ragged Sky, 2022). She lives in Pittsburgh.
wonderful poem, beautiful chair
Yes, I love Arlene Weiner’s work. So precise. So wise.
It is a wonderful poem. Thank you, Elizabeth.
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