Christopher Cheney & Francesca Chabrier
Faking Your Own Antiques

A man in his late forties went to visit his elderly parents
Sometimes they were riding a stationary bicycle
The heavy wingbeats brought them together in unusual ways
like clouds that manifest on a lake
I remember growing up on a farm
with a window-view of the water
We kept busy basically memorizing every night
Once this woman came from a 14-day program
she was like a dark, protected area of a building
I began to stay in bed
People would come by asking to shovel ukeleles into the lake
My manager was sending his interns there to find his old heartstrings
that flooded again and again it was night
I felt like a stranger I was rescuing pigeons
I pinned them to my jacket softly with a harpoon
The lake was frozen and there were people ice fishing
My hands felt arrested from the cold
I became the manager and started a program
We had appreciation for folks who built their homes near lakes
They never had to shovel out their cars
We passed notes to their daughters
and studied the posters in their rooms