like paper on the walls

[joel]

Like paper on the walls—its print recalls
such delicate particularities
of blue-tint vines and red-hue flower dots
and welcomes sight to vertigo. At first
the pages’ intercourse was seamless art,
but now they’re old—their ribs are shown, their skin
is crackled dry, they strike a well-used pose—
a touch-up job would help, but I suppose
the print’s now unavailable. Yet, in
its open-edgy state and torn apart,
its plaster underneath displays the worst
of debutante’s appearances: it rots,
is papered better dressed – and please,
aren’t too our lies like paper on the walls?