Gasps of organic matter stand frail sentry
in your doorways.
Willow wisps, meadow grass, chuffed wheat stalks, prairie blades
in every color known to Pantone
are referenced by your hosts.
All of your agents are thanked
and all of your rooms explored
no matter how similar.
These studies in skeletal flora
occupy molten pots heavy enough to be moveable only by Hercules
at pivot doors that reach the sky,
and we are hushed as we enter.
Rooms that will never be inhabited are set
as though for an episode of a late ’90s dramatic series
in which every girl wore plum brown lipstick and
every boy ran his hands through his hair
to indicate concern.
Still, there’s no lack of effect
in how unaffected every element in its undone-ness is.
For all its impenetrability,
– with its home theater, its bathrooms that outnumber its bedrooms, and its panic room –
the structure might as well be a dandelion.