Chair

My Mother had a chair like you:
dark, ruby skinned, light
pattenation like the
small brass rubbing of a
snake skin.

My mother had four
like you, round her
dolls house crib of a
dining room, but three of them
broke, leaving only one-

fragile, waiting, never sat in
for fear of breaking its
fine brittle bones of
creaking wood. My mother
had a chair like you.

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