Decorum

she leaned the final frame against the wall
stepped back to admire what they had done

this here
that there

her hung pictures were hiding wounds
some with several small points of entry

long nails
short screws

the rug protected swept things
held in place by bare feet and legs

postured
pristine

the coffee table built of milk crates and glue
rested in between things she could not live without

blue chairs
pillows

her mirrors caught the light at different angles
so she lit her lamps and saw herself in every way

in them
in him

she wondered where the leaning thing would go
lifted it with two hands and carried it to the bedroom