Furniture

Furniture

To sand and refinish the floor

we moved everything out of the dining

room, storing it on the perimeter,

a new maze I negotiate at night

trying not to stub a toe.

Stubbing is serious business for me

ever since I gave up toenails for aesthetic,

if not salutary, reasons.  A poor excuse,

but the best I can come up with

at eighty-two—no end in sight.

Now that the floor and my toes

are cured we’ll move the furniture back

tomorrow with a crew of children,

grandchildren, since I’m deemed unfit

to lift much more than my arm.  

I can barely lift my thoughts beyond

this strait and crooked path on my way

to the guest bathroom hoping not to wake

the downstairs sleepers with a flush

and flourish that could interrupt their dreams.

                              —Donnell Hunter

                                        23 January 2012