S E P I A … D R E A M

May 14, 2012

We came around the corner   through no door/

Saw us in a high-ceilinged room  for no furniture/

It is darkish  as an attic-trunk’s photograph/

Sepia./  And they had each stepped up

To face the wall/  Not disciplined children/

Not prisoners/ No devastating storm imminent/

Women and men in old jackets & shoes/

Stepped up to face the wall/

Uniformly  four feet from each/ like bunks/

Though I suppose some mouths chose murmurs

Prayers  stayed  inordinately  inaudible

(a complex way to say of the plain)/

No one kneeled/

This pure obviousness  not to turn and whisper

“What do you make of this?”  or

“Why here? And not anywhere elsewhere

Necessarily  alone?”

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