Dust to Dust October 13, 2009
Your favorite chair broke today.
Foolishly, I worry that you might be angry or upset,
But of course I'm the one upset because I’m here –
Not you, who’ve traveled far beyond.
You were a proud possessor of that chair –
An original in rosewood by famed designer Eames.
You’d bought it to console yourself ,
To symbolize your New York style
When you left Manhattan for the suburbs many years ago.
You spent a part of every day
Sitting in its elegant embrace -- right up to the day you died.
It was your special chair, your biggest prize, almost a part of you.
Today, it broke in two – just like my heart a year ago.
Piece by piece, the things you left behind,
Like all matter, slowly fall apart –
Memories that fade and crumble over time.
Ellen: Hollow Pleasure, February 1 1997
I sit in my Eames Chair,
Good Johnny Walker by my side.
Fischer-Dieskau pouring sublime Mahler
Out of extraordinary speakers.
All is comfort, pleasure –
Designed to make me feel good, satisfied, joyous.
So why a poem?
Why the need to say more?
What is missing?
Ellen in Eames Chair, Christmas 2000, Berkeley CA
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