Pared (Poetry)

They stripped the walls,
blow-torched the paintwork,
jettisoned all bric-a-brac,
Boy-Scout-jumble-d ethnic carvings,
cushions bought from Habitat,
onyx ashtrays, real silk flowers
Oxfam-bound. No looking back.

They sold the walnut G-plan units,
auctioned off some objects d’art,
ditched the dresser left by Granny,
abandoned pot plants in the park.
A Feng Shui chapter each at bedtime —
dreaming simple in the dark.

The lounge stood empty, sterile, spotless,
arctic white — a vacant cube
where energy now flowed unfettered
and he postured in the nude,
minimal — just one last label,
Nike on his neck tattooed.

She took up yoga — gave up make-up —
dieted and shaved her head,
fasted each alternate Tuesday,
only ate organic bread
without butter, marge or other
polyunsaturated spread.

When she went she wrote a letter
pouring out her inner rage —
eloquent her reams of reasons
why she flew their perfect cage
but she tippexed out such poems,
left him with a word-free page.