What the Carpet Knows

I see what's underneath ladies' skirts; their plump underpinnings and roundness. I feel shoes scrape across my surface, the feel of a broom and the bold suck of a vacuum Each piece of me becomes a bit tattered over the days and piece-worn over the years. Those who made me wove in color and particles of their life; skin from their fingers linger. The colors made them exclaim, "How bright the room looks. It's like a picture!" I've felt writhing, passionate bodies roll onto me when there was no couch, and seen what others would not dare to think. If someone asked me, “Who?” I would lie. I am filled with life, taken for granted and finally wadded up and thrown into a large trash bin All my memories buried, gone. If they only knew. But I'll I can do is lie. KAB 3/12/11