New Lamp

New Lamp

It's not that I like the old,

have a penchant for plated gold

and Chinese, painted porcelain.

If God had to twist his arm at this angle 

to reach beneath the shade and let there be 

light, I’d mutter Jesus, collapse 

on the couch, and make it all new, too.

My fear is that given how things get

a bit tangled here, and being young enough

to assume this won't be our last lamp, old enough

to know I won't remember it in a year or two,

if we remove this pillar of the living 

room who's to say we aren't also throwing away

our daughter waiting in the bathtub

for a towel, you with a paint trowel

still wet in your hands and big plans

to tackle the basement come spring?

These foundations of ours are tilted

things, the world we raised

forever collapsing like a Jenga game

to rebuild in the light of a new piece.

Even now the mums from your sister’s shower

are wilting on the porch. I’ll put them out

with the lamp, just hold my hand

so at least I can pretend there's a fixture

sure to be here when I get back.