Poem under the influence for Matthew Rohrer


The candlestick beneath the stairs
plugged its ears and sang a tune to cover
the sound of the chandelier gagging.

Inter-racial affairs went on among the mismatched
dining room chairs.

A white pine Scandinavian modern
shamelessly pressed its leg against
a cherry wine skinned Windsor.

The old blender, canvassing for the upcoming election,
had pissed itself. Mr. Coffee
and the toaster, tittered, down at the end
of the counter – figures, a Republican.

Upstairs, all the books in the library
sighed.

The radio alarm clock
declared a wildcat strike,
causing the hapless homeowners
to be late for work.

Later,
over dinner,
they thought it odd
that both of them had dreamt
the sky rained
men in overcoats and bowler hats.