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APRIL IS POETRY MONTH: 'As Is' by Marie Ponset
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Objects new to this place, I receive you.
It was I who sent for each of you.
The house of my mother is empty.
I have emptied it of all her things.
The house of my mother is sold with
All its trees and their usual tall music.
I have sold it to the stranger,
The architect with three young children.
Things of the house of my mother,
You are many. My house is
Poor compared to yours and hers.
My poor house welcomes you.
Come to rest here. Be at home. Please
Do not be frantic do not
Fly whistling up out of your places.
You, floor - and wall-coverings, be
Faithful in flatness; lie still;
Try. By light or by dark
There is no going back.
You, crystal bowls, electrical appliances,
Velvet chair and walnut chair,
You know your uses; I wish you well.
My mother instructed me in your behalf.
I have made room for you. Most of you
Knew me as a child; you can tell
We need not be afraid of each other.
And you, old hopes of the house of my mother,
More on this poem and author:
- Learn more about Springing by Marie Ponsot.
- Browse other titles by Marie Ponsot.
- Visit our Tumblr to share this poem and peruse other poems, audio recordings, and broadsides in our Knopf Poem-a-Day series.
- Submit your entry to our "Portray Your Love of Poetry" contest.
Excerpt from Springing. Copyright (c) 2002 by Marie Ponsot. Excerpted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, LLC., New York. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.