Issue 116, Fall 1990
That summer the sand rusted,
The twigs cracked more easily. A worker was sent for
To carry away broken pipes and in their place put
A radiant partition with holes cut in it
For flavoring the air. They were storing piles of pictures
In shoe boxes: a girl with a ghostly talking cat,
Dancers groaning and covered with sticky cloth.
The rooms overflowed. There was a book called The Dark Ages,
Another called The Puzzle Lock. The waiting period
Was occupied by objects of color and value:
A rare smoke whose odor aflirmed bone harmony,
A lacquered sheath, a necktie decorated with yellow monkeys.
All this will have been cleared, whole banks of memory
Cleaned for new use. Between the multiple glass surfaces
Crowbars made roads. Damaged particles of restaurant illustration
Fell toward the hall too soon to be catalogued.