Poem for the Parlor

Abstract

Poem for the Parlor Catherine Pierce (bio) Oh parlor, you den of drapes and darkness,you ruched velvet, you settee and divan,you oak-ached and candle-licked fever dream, let us faint into the arms of the couchyou've crafted for our frailty, let it catch and cradlewhen we're overcome by the fireplace's musky plumes, the gentleman's wink.Let us play the pianoforte with vicious precision,all our anger coiled in our hair. Outside the snow falls, the lamps are lit.Outside someone is tossing scraps to the dogsthat gather behind the butcher shop, but we don't eat scraps, and our dogs are tiny,nearly crocheted. They warm themselveson our narrow laps and we all pretend comfort. Outside someone is boarding a train,someone is locking a shop. Outside womenare teetering through alleys, their breath hanging in the cold, but inside we are hothoused,utterly safe. Inside are your ruby hangingsand firelight, your massive mirror and gilt, our wasp waists and tamped-down laughter,our well-turned ankles, those small, bony soulsof discretion. In your corner, a fine brass cage, all gleam and climbing ivy.Inside it, our unhappiness perches.It hops and pecks. It sings all night. [End Page 89] Catherine Pierce Catherine Pierce's most recent book of poems is The Tornado Is the World (2016). She is also the author of The Girls of Peculiar (2012) and Famous Last Words (2008), all from Saturnalia Books. Her poems have appeared in Best American Poetry, Boston Review, Southern Review, Ploughshares, and elsewhere. She co-directs the creative writing program at Mississippi State University. Copyright © 2017 Middlebury College Publications