and anxiously the flowers
in the wallpaper try to escape
 
suffocated by plaster
with their petals melded
 
to the peeling walls
watching compulsively
 
the black carpet matted
in dust and embedded footsteps
 
and the rippled windows
each cracked with dimness
 
fused to the wall with nails and board
so they won’t realize
 
the despairing chandelier inside
recalling absent voices and extinguished flames
 
still clenching its stubby candlesticks
wax frozen in another century
 
above them the exhausted ceiling
groans with age and finally
 
slumps to the floor
and drops the latent attic
 
trunks and dust and diaries
a prison of discarded ambitions
 

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