Beneath the lacquer
the thin layer of shiny
the glossy
the new
and defined by such
Beautiful
and untouched
Kept up
Ready for the mounting
behind windexed glass
on top of polished wood
we are placed
Our chiseled bodies
Our coated faces
Shown off
Replaced
Look not at the grain underneath
Developed years of lines
The etching away of knots
and unusable ugliness
Acknowledge not the sanding away
The shaving of circle into square
Sandblasted and primed
into the newly socially acceptable
Illusion and delusion
Better and best
How we shine
from over there
above the fireplace
on the mantle
Brought out
Dusted off
Misplaced
We are just beneath the surface
desperately wanting to get out
To burn it away, this gloss
To melt it away, this façade
To say something, anything
To voice an opinion
Right or wrong
Good and bad
Different, yet same
To say, “I’m here”
I am here.