Phenomenalology

Phenomenalology

Now that is what I’d call
a real chair, the fragrance
of chairness billowing out
marvelously from beneath
the armrests. This chair
is definitively there, we
agree on the space it takes
to exist. Place it in a meadow,
and yellow butterflies will
land along its frame, when
you scoot the chair away,
yellow wings will remain,
floating, twitching, an outline
of a chair so convincing
someone would try to sit.
Do not talk to me about
reupholstery. Sacrilege.
Anyone sitting here, you
ask. Passel of butterflies
trumpets in tinny, quivering
chorus, you!