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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-lwuOJB434

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                I

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The room was Elizabethan - 

Hand-crafted - it had all the airings

Of aristocracy, all the loftiness of that

Which when wealth can afford its space;

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The floor was set with hardwood oak,

Boards that’d then been harvested,

Planed, sanded,

And then set into broken pattern

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So as not to betray intention

As it lay waywardly afoot;

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                II

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The ceiling had been shaped with plaster

In near Morrisian detail - leaves inlaid

In series,

Embossed with petals, and with bloom,

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As though woodlands set into vaulted apertures

Had impressed spring into the room;

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The walls were made from paneled elm

And lined the corners to the floor - 

Inviting the sense of a confession-booth

And hanging lowered shadows

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Beneath the framing of the windows,

From the fireplace towards the door;

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                III

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While all around it’d been cut with 

Carpets, embroidery and fabrics, 

Fractals embedded

Into lowly shapes 

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As feathers

Into a mattress;

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With every line there was intentionality,

Not a crease stood out of place, each

Chair-leg carved for decoration, each

Ornament given face;

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And yet there upon a coffee table,

Atop a circle made of lace,

Sat the embellishment of

A painted figure

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Within the curvatures of a vase;

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                IV

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In a room of such regality -

Of such decadence and wealth -   

Designed to last a dynasty 

In dispassion or in health - 

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There sat within the center

The semblance of a dying flower

Encaged within 

Enameled china  

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With neither the means

Nor the learning

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To splash water upon itself.

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