Issue 124, Fall 1992
According to Steinhaus
You’re an eight-year-old
on the floor of your grandfather’s room,
you’re not wearing any of the later uniforms:
not the navy blue gabardine pinafore
nor the US Army khakis
nor even that black sweater.
Everybody in turn enters and says:
or we’ll choose it for you . . .
You fight back
repulse the attack
and hold out
The carpet is your battleship,
an aeroplane and a castle . . .
A beam of light falls in through the window
and stumbles over a book .. .
The dust from the book rises,
swirling in a thousand tiny worlds
Grandfather enters, smiles, counts and
arranges worlds .. .
He wraps you in something warm!