From Seven Houses (75 Audubon Place) – Nordette Adams
I’ve wooed brides for two centuries with my staircase
curves, my marble luster, my chandelier’s
false light, they love. Now I’d prefer this pride
hidden, but maids part silk for all to see. No one
seems to see. Throughout me’s tucked her valium.
The lady’s hooked. These in crannies let her fake
sleep whenever her husband glides my gilded halls
barefoot on carpet to their daughter’s room.
Ripped tween of long-sleeved blouses, razor-scarred,
improper arms. Son’s grapsing this, so board-
ing school. Their mother’s vows, for better or worse.
And her wedding is remembered. Sonoma registry.
Cathedral-blessed, steep reception. Her groom’s
gift – me. Pristine without. Sedated mouth.
Nordette N. Adams is a poet and journalist who lives in New Orleans, Louisiana. She is completing her MFA in Creative Writing at the University of New Orleans and is a contributing editor at BlogHer.com. Her poetry has appeared in the Adagio Verse Quarterly, Mad Zineius, Poetry Life & Times, and the Times Picayune. She is also a winner of the Sandhills Literary Magazine fiction award and looks forward to studying poetry this summer in Italy.