Get our latest essays, archival selections, reading lists, and exclusive content delivered straight to your inbox.
When Diccon the Bedlam had heard by report
about the basting, and sensible replies to it
from people here and there, think first of those
looking very worried, and that will be an end to it.
Yes, and farther along the path to school
were mutterings: Some claimed the end of the world
had come, others that it was fast approaching.
Finally no one knew that anything was going on
for long, and kept their thoughts to themselves:
Why, Gammer, we had no idea something was lost
and that you had lost it, pray? I’ll teach ya a lesson.
And night flowed into the pond as though it were a lagoon.
They knew, and were interested.
Little events in the house drew the attention
but not for long, and it was as though rose leaves
on the paper were really leaves. There’s no time
to keep this, not too much anyway. There’s time
you were owed, and the time you owned, and between them
the match that was called. You slid down
into a chair and it was like so much that happens
every day and no one is wiser for it, nor wiser
before it happened, on someone’s day off:
Cashier the jerks, kiss the bald head
and we’ll be on our way, not being proud
nor ashamed either. That would be it.
Vital reading on politics, literature, and more in your inbox. Sign up for our Weekly Newsletter, Monthly Roundup, and event notifications.
Support us with a donation this giving season.
Robin D. G. Kelley on the midterm elections.
What we have achieved this year—and our plans for 2023.