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james mcgonigal
Poet  •  Critic

Contact  James McGonigal

       The Upsidedown Room

I have forgotten the word
for a painting on the ceiling
but that’s what this room
was like when we entered

a chandelier standing erect as a fountain
the sole focal point on a barley white floor
armchairs and sofas afloat like red clouds
with cloudlets of cushions asleep in their arms

back in one carpeted corner of heaven
two signs of disturbance
a television and a stereo
hung down like bats close into the wall.

Click on the poem title to read the next excerpted poem from Turning Over in a Strange Bed.