not quite the core

more like
an axis

I would follow
the rag rug
towards it’s center

spiraling lines
faded
blue-browns

trailblazing
the yellow-brick road

surrounded by
eroded seats

topped by plush
sewn red cushions

pushed against walls
facing inward

celebrating birthdays
rotations around the sun

wasn’t this room known
for laying out the dead?

circling back
after the pandemic
great-grandmom saw

she said she’s in the living room
asserted the medium

she’s in the living room
waiting to unpack