In walls we find comfort:
Even the softly swaying opalescent
Cloth partitition draped between beds
In a ward, as in some comic
Gable and Colbert flick,
Gives us some solace
Barricading sight, if not sound,
Dignity, if not security:
The grey woman in the wheelchair
Clutches her purse over her bare knees
— draw the curtain.

So we huddle behind walls
Secure in our ignorance
While something monstrous happens
Out of sight outside the partitions:
One sneaks bags of gold,
Another diamonds, art, significant organs;
All out of sight off site into the night,
Only to apologize red-faced red-handed
Red-assed when caught and brought in
— draw the curtain.

Outside the walls, someone will
Pasteurize the sunset,
Making lovely muddy hues
We will all love;
Soon Munich, Taj Mahal, Montreal
And MyHomeTown will trade places
And no one will notice behind the walls
— draw the curtain.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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1 Response to Garrison

  1. charlie says:

    All of these are so powerful in their intuitions and images, Doug, I find myself inadequate to the requirements of putting down a decent articulate comment. I just want to sit with them for a while and let them steep and do their thing.


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