Anterior of a Razed Room
What corseting—: the room cinched in
as the wrecking drill bores down,
its metal threaded vertebrae spiraling
slow through our plaster
and horsehair insulation, the seven-layer
wallpapers caked over and over each
other—a city falling
asleep under another city and another.
Our furniture slides toward a center—
the drill in the parlor a bright needle,
the floorboard rays puckered & tufted.
I want a new coveting, a lament-for.
A simple unribboning
of song. At night my horror
vacui wills itself to filled.
In the morning I find my fingers
From the backbone of our once spared
room, you dismiss my voice as nothing
but traffic or disconstruction. When I leave you
I will leave you more than enough
light, my handmirror and a sink, to shave by.
Cori A. Winrock
"Anterior of a Razed Room" first appeared in Black Warrior Review, Issue 37.2 (Winter 2011).