Half full. The glass
Globes dangle uselessly—
High and dry. The switch is submerged.
The careful negotiations
Between quality and cost, between
The trappings of your childhood
And his, between pantone swatches and
That rarely-sounded piano, such a difficult
Stain of wood to match—
Engulfed. Overwhelmed.
Relentless water laps up the lists,
The receipts, the returns, the written
Proof, leaves a skim of oil and silt and
Spores spreading fingers up
All the walls.
The glass globes swing
In the half full room.