Un-Doings

here in my sanctuary

an unplayed guitar Buddha

squats in the corner,

its polished mahogany curves

instrumental in swift seduction,

un-hung picture frames too

lean against each other like

slices of toast, amongst some

un-read books that litter the

floor in a chaotic mosaic in

this very personal museum,

only the desk is sacrosanct,

an oasis of order, nought out

of place, dusted and sparsely

laden, an unsung reverential altar

to the curation of words

( a shangri-la of lethargy)

Published by grahamrsherwood