Take away the hinge, its hidden polish.
Take away the orange rind—
I’ll chew it.
No violins, no Bach, no way.
Take away the argument.
You’ll always win.
I’ll always tell myself
I let you.
All the gypsum,
all the kiln-glow of cobalt,
flares against my joy.
Take away the documents.
I’ve seen cream
whipped stiff for a tart.
You know what I mean.
Take away the cheap suits and
heavy tables, polished citrus dark.
Lilah Hegnauer is the author of Dark Under Kiganda Stars (Ausable Press, 2005), which won an honorable mention for the 2007 Library of Virginia Literary Award. Her poems have appeared in FIELD, AGNI Online, The Kenyon Review, Ploughshares, and elsewhere. She teaches in the English Department at James Madison University. For more information, visit www.lilahhegnauer.com. (updated 5/2011)