Floors scuffed raw by thousands of treadless shoes the rumble of balls the clatter of pins All silent The balls are lined along the back wall the pins are gone The PA microphone droops forgotten behind the counter The “e” is missing from the gated-off ARCAD The pole was a rental and thus mirrored walls are all that remains of the adjoining strip club
Poetry
Undocumented: Miami 1981
PoetryEyes bloodshot and wide with fear peering through a small rectangular hole cut into the brown paper that covers the window Packed into a shack with twenty other men looking for a better life Trapped again Just like back in Haiti
Heritage
PoetryOn the sloping porch of Grafton Grange No. 117 generations of women sit surrounded by pine boughs making wreaths for Memorial Day
Auction at the Farm
PoetryAt the commune two VW vans are parked back to back beneath the oak in the door-yard Down the road the auction started at seven The barn yard is crowded so for a better view men have clambered onto the tin roof of the barn The auctioneer his shirt pocket sagging under the weight of glasses and pens wears a crooked green trebly and mud covered overalls He pulls a heifer before the crowd sticking his stubby fingers into her nose and pulling down her gums A chair maker from the commune with wild hair and an unkempt beard a cigarette in one hand stops harvesting cattails to sway to the singsong rhythm of the auctioneer