2007/floral

My sister speaks disdainfully
of the draperies my mother had.
“Leaves,” as though there
was nothing worse.
The way my daughter used to
feel about earthy or organic.
I loved that ’50s fabric,
the bold floral prints,
more than a bit tropical.
Not just leaves but flowers
we didn’t have,
with names like hibiscus.

A texture like bark cloth.
Delighted when I found
its faded likeness
in thrift stores.
Maybe it was a Hawaiiana
that filtered in after
Pearl Harbor.
Something warm and sultry
against the ivory wallpaper,
plastic-protected
around the light switches.
Like the white ceramic bricks
of the hearth,
an unexpected elegance
in our plain life.

1/27/07