Loot

I finger my pearls found in a cab, evenly knotted on new thread.
I flirt with objects, eyes wide. Already I crave next week's
belongings the way my body wants music while I still hear it.
Eyelets open across the body and sleeves of an indigo blouse.
Antelopes leap on porcelain plates, lifting delicate horns. Light
filters through green, each leaf made manifest. And look,
a bowl of purple plums. It's a new country, ruled by desire.

Barbara Daniels' Rose Fever was published by WordTech Press. She earned an MFA in poetry at Vermont College and is on the staff at Peter Murphy's Getaway in Cape May, New Jersey.