Furniture Un-Success

September 30, 2016

I want a space to myself:
pink, with a blue desk that doesn't
smell like cigarette smoke.
Isn't almost-the-right-thing
worse than
nothing-at-all-yet?
And what am I to do
with the drawer that sticks
and stinks even though I tried
filling each cavity with the thick scent
of lavender oil,
using tiny, handmade sachets?
All that work
for nothing.
That drawer didn't stick
until I had painted the thing.
And it all sat outside for a week, collecting
extra bug parts and mysterious
white clusters of malicious, minuscule eggs.
Sun and air were supposed to work
magic.
Nothing.
And my husband says it's all in my head
anyway, but what does that matter
when you want a space
all to yourself,
pink, with a blue desk for the
sewing machine your mom gave you,
a space for silence and whirring and
needles?