white remote

hard to press

my heart beats for

the small statues holding up

rows of books in all the personal libraries

and a paperweight in Tulsa,

a glass dome with a grey rose in it

next to the white remote

which watched me 

in my grandmother’s gold slip

spaghetti straps knotted

beneath long clip-on sapphires

watch the Disney Channel

in weekly doses

until all my teeth were new

behind me a screensaver of

alternating

straight rows of trees

in real fall color and

rivers the green of actual limes

"plantation" shutters

with a new construction feel

I long for an old mental saddle

like a gold slip and earrings

something to climb into
when it’s time to think