The inlaid table — its surface decorated with geometric or pictorial patterns in contrasting woods, ivory, or tortoiseshell — appears in poems about patient craft and the transformation of a surface into a narrative; A poem about a craftsman's labour might describe the inlaid table's making: "each piece cut to fit its neighbour exactly, the pattern emerging only when all were laid — the whole invisible until the last piece found its place"; In a poem about inheritance, the inlaid table carries the visual argument of its anonymous maker: "a pattern of vines and lozenges, as deliberate as a will, left to whoever would look closely enough"; The inlaid table's surface — hard, flat, and resistant — contrasts with the domestic softness of the objects it holds, giving poets an image of support and contrast; A poem about a Florentine workshop might describe the pietra dura technique as the extreme of inlay — hard stones cut to the shapes of flowers, the table becoming a garden that will not fade; In a poem about dissolution, the inlaid table outlasts the family's paintings and plate: "the patterns in the wood survived what hung above them, and the table stood in the empty room still making its argument about order."