Can someone please explain the these of this poem?
DÉCOR
My covetous eye casts over you,
taking you apart. I’d like a trophy of you
for every room of the house.
The bend of your cocked wrist
in the join of a rafter to the wall;
an eyebrow floated in a cut-glass bowl;
and instead of an antimacassar
draping my overstuffed chair,
a crochet netting of your veins.
Something authoritative,
asymmetrical, perhaps
a bit outré. Featuring that spiral-
shaped mystery of gravitation,
making the room attend it,
composed, aware of distances.
What better in my front hall
with its fan light, its tall
mirrors, than the immaculate
roundness of your plump heel
and toes—substantial, rococo,
a handle for my front door:
warm to the touch,
it turns easily, opens….
You can go now.
—Monica Youn
