J.W. Burleson photo / Boquillas del Carmen, Coah.

Thursday, March 26, 2015

Kate Northrop poem: In the Old Army Navy




In the Old Army Navy


                                                (now that David’s dead)


The elevator, “claptrap” he’d said,
was right at the back of the jacket aisle. 
A clerk took us up—

Swung the door open, stood where it soared, the old gym
qua tent room, white and stripped
into us: the high windows
                                                     
waved and stained, the bleachers
bright and dusty, like large sun-lit rocks.
Holding hands, we could see

dozens of tents (dark red, orange, one emerald)
had been arranged around the room, fluttering
in the fans a little

but holding on, like aspens.

.


The clerk cleared her throat.  You can go in.

She sneezed into her sleeve,
then we were climbing in the tents like children,
on our hands and knees.

Across the room I could hear
owl-sounds he was making. A little touched, goofy,
they spread out in the air there.

                                                                                     --Kate Northrop  
                                                
In the Old Army Navy first appeared 




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