In my hands
Pale ribbons I squeeze
As junkers shout "Opera!"
No trumpets such as these
Staffless songs
For rubber bands
A house, short and stout
A man's image in a Staunton mirror
Chain-smoking from his chimney
(Osteoporosis of the pillar)
Junkers shout "Ivory!"
That house has crumpled.
With Hadfield I too shall retreat
To the home of the birds
Greet us kindly
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