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 

in Connotation Press: An Online Artifact.