I, when referring to we, exert utmost care
to layer doormats inches off the stage
behind my svelte podium.
This is to welcome me to us, your tall army boy
stolid as pilotis on LeCorbusier’s porch slats,
girlscouting the cost of war.
How fitting, then, that a passover
of the magnifying glass reveals
Lining the home sweet home, or
perhaps, wipe your paws inscribed
in the painful bristles my bare feet endure.
–Clayton Woolery, from ODO 180