Ode to My Therapist’s Floral Rug

Beneath the florescent thrum of conversation

beneath every sole, heel, and rounded boot

beneath pivotal hearts

you, golden summer

floral buffer

woolen garden, lie

patterned between chair and couch

the tread of your petals

almost sweet


I pass over you

our weekly dance

an awkward shuffle

my feet a jumble of



above you

the story of my life

dredged of all metaphor

begins again


rooted to the floor,

the room, the hour

you listen

radial, calm, captive



cinching round and round

catch, unravel, tangle


above you

faces open and close

like bridges


and you,

floral buffer

woolen garden

knotted in pastels

narrate the silences that fall in-between

shifting and tidal

the telling, sloping

the heart hanging lower


Nicole Zuckerman: I am an ESL teacher in Pennsylvania always looking for new ways to challenge students  to view language as a unique form of self expression.  I am an avid collector of poetry, as well as aspiring to be a poet worthy of those whom I collect.  I love flea markets and auctions and I seek out ephemera because I see beauty in that which defines our daily lives.