Thursday, April 28, 2016

Game of Thrones


Game of Thrones

It was an ugly building
No matter the attempts to dress it up.
Rough lumber formed sides and door.
Tin on the roof, sometimes.
Surrounded by flies in Summer,
And poke berries for color.
Winter brought frost.
Ice and snow found the wall’s cracks
And covered the seat
Which had no lid.
Scraping was required
Before business conducted.

The building
In winter taught self control.
The path was not trod unless
There were no other options.
In summer it taught tolerance
For odors, textures, and flies,
And snakes.

The building
Was educational,
Housing reading material
That served multiple purposes.
I learned about the latest
In bicycles and toys,
And ladies’ undergarments.

The building
Had one hole.
Churches in the country had two.
I marveled at the fact.
Rich people may have had two, too.
Perhaps.

The building
Was my hideout,
Separated by the three-rooms
By twenty feet of scrub grass.
I owned this three-by-four feet of space.
This was my building for years.
Until it disappeared,
And four-by-six feet of warmth
And comfort
Was brought into my house on Ice Plant Hill.

We now share special,
Porcelain-endowed, spacious rooms, indoors.
We now, in comfort and privilege
With time on our hands,
Devote ourselves to wondering who
Used these special places before us,
Who occupies them with us now,
And whether or not these imagined people
Are worthy of us.
They scare us, these imaginary people,
More than the flies and snakes,
The ice and snow,
That used to greet us each morning
In the building that sat outside in the cold.







No comments:

Post a Comment