Ikea Couples And Their Table Leg Children

Their first and last house together
was a three bedroom semidetached somewhere on the outskirts of town
and once the bags were packed
and all the goodbyes not-sobbed through said
it was the furniture's turn to be flat-packed back up again;
the division of the IKEA.

The Dalfred bar stool was his;
black and fool proof, yet he'd
left the Allen key in his new North London flat
so faced a two hour commute from home to home
with a fully assembled stool sat between in his legs
until he came to rest at Mill Hill east sometime past ten.

They had made love against the Billy bookcase
and now the birch-veneer adjustable shelves were
stained with the one night they thought would
be another dowl-pin-notch on their relationship.
Sadly it was not and now neither of them want
the bookcase; so to the skip with that one
along with the many shared books on Hong Kong
they took notes from for their one international trip away together never taken.

She'll be keeping the Lack side-table for herself,
it's sat behind packed bags hidden from him.
Her reading glasses, picture of the dead family dog
and the bookmark brought back from Denmark by a friend
all fit perfectly on the top,
just the back left leg is a little wobbly but
she'll prop it up with a picture of him;
the only thing to keep the unsteady level again.