IF I WAS ONCE
That should shoulder the blame, I'd say :
If I was once what I ever thought I was.
The shed in the alterior woods, covered
white with snow, the pine trees blazing
with the sound of threaded wind. We simply
put down the matches to make the fire.
The heat rose up as the floorboards wilted.
There were some old clippings, tacked to
the back wall, a sort of wallpaper I guess,
of a newspaper from 1947. Some Gazette
or Daily Ledger. Back when they still listed
the comings and goings of trains and boats,
and freight and baggage. 'Miss Loretta Crim
on Tuesday took tea with Miss Maryann
Hutchins at the Altermont Lunch Room
to discuss her upcoming trip to Rome,
where she will be teaching English
for the next 12 months.'
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