Angela Kelsey

Tell the Story

“no dust on the furniture of love”

Filed in Memoir, Stories, voices, Writing :: December 7, 2011


In my writing class tonight, I read Adrienne Rich’s “Living in Sin,” and then we wrote for ten minutes on this line:

“no dust on the furniture of love”
Gainesville, c. 1988.

Newly married (the first time).

Our apartment, the back half of an old house,

 on the outer edges, on the fringe, of the Duckpond neighborhood of

historic houses, intellect, old overhanging trees.

We had my grandmother’s couch, covered in a sturdy, sticky vinyl,

and a waterbed, won by me, the 27th caller,

always at risk of falling

through the sagging floor.

I wrote my grad school papers in a closet off the kitchen,

where my new vegetarianism was offended by his every-morning bacon.

I remember what I read (Clarissa)

 what I listened to (Clapton)

and the neighbors who followed Rajneesh.

But where was he?

No dust ever settled on him.



  1. Kath Sander

    Wow! You’re such a poet indeed. The way you constructed the lines are really different. Mind if I share this on my Facebook? I hope you don’t. Glad you shared this by the way.