folk art history class poem
by lauren d'auria

im sitting here not alone
in a room full yet lonely
my chair folds down
desk folds over
on both sides if needed
my pen does work
what doesn't is my vocab
my eyes wandering
wander wonder
i don't want to learn of
such useless things of past
roosters chairs stained with blood
soaked and set in urine
portraits of babies
one shoe missing
"Don't dare ask!"
how is this all categorized
what makes it set apart
how did it remain
the guy next to me sleeps
ill try not to focus on
his nose wheeze and
envy his not paying
attention to the story
of antiques rudely
interrupted by time.