A True and Faithful Inventory of my Bedroom

with apologies to Thomas Sheridan)

A rumpled, tousled unmade bed
With cat-claw rips upon its head;
A mighty merbau writing desk
With mess and muddle made grotesque;
Several pencils without lead;
Journals waiting to be reread;
Notes for articles uncompleted;
Drafts of stories, half deleted.
The Idiots Guide to Yoga poses
Beside the bed. On top reposes
A dictionary with well-thumbed pages,
A guide to Zen down through the ages,
Good Housekeeping mags all in a pile,
Clipped recipes wait for a file;
Last night’s forgotten water glass;
A stopped alarm-clock made of brass;
And then upon a china plate,
Odd earrings dreaming of their mate;
Cobwebs adorn each wall,
And thus my bedroom you have all.
And of course, since you’re my friend,
I’ll willingly my boudoir lend;
The right place for romance or tryst.
Just don’t play psychoanalyst!