She became one with a table As a table nobody could walk over her, they had to stop respect the object (obstacle?) she had become attached, a part of she reigned over four legs and a tablecloth she was on top shoulders at one end one hip, pointing upward she wasn’t dead, though she lay still she wasn’t even ill; rather well in fact she had found an existence she could tolerate on top of a table on a table top The man who disappeared into the curtain One minute he was there staring back at me from the corner of the sofa The next; he was nowhere to be seen the pattern of that magic curtain, had swallowed him All it took, was the blink of my eyes And he had disappeared into context