Finally redoing the memory palace.
Rooms around the courtyard

crowd the leaky fountain.
What passed for fashion

can’t be fathomed now.
Red and tan, the ghastly shags –

none of the mnemonics
help the back room’s black lacquer.

Western ranch, faux distressed,
branded bar nones and lariats.

Just writing about walking through
all the poems with no one in them

makes it easier to sense what might be
under lurid layers of paint:

pallid frescoes, old gold leaf.
Maui wowie, mirror of truth.

Forty-yard dumpster and it’s down to the studs.
Natural light, Norwegian Wood, muted blues

then when the tour is given, past
the Aga, bookshelves, garden, beds

mosaic patterns on the floor
repurposed from the smashed and broken

songbirds in the fig trees hung with tender
fruit mixed with sounds of water, gesturing

nonchalantly at plein air, saying yes, remember
where and when and yes, it was always this way.

Susan Lynch

About Susan Lynch

Susan Lynch was born in Chicago, co-founded an Oregon commune in 1970, became a rock singer in LA in the 80’s, and went to college 20 years later. Susan received a BA in English from Reed College, an MFA from Goddard College, and was a visiting student at Oxford University. Her poems have appeared in the Oxford University Poetry Society's journal Ash. and elsewhere. She is the October anthology poet for The neo:anthology Project in the UK; her poem “Only What I’ve Heard” will be published in the Circle Poems anthology December 2013. She’s Associate Editor of The Conium Review.
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