#poem Jamestown Flood at the Frick Collection

 

 

Forever we are at the Frick,

and forever you have left

your gloves on the top

of a taxi in the rain.

 

Always the old steel magnate

looks grim in his portrait,

grim that some striker

or other must be shot.

 

 

Grim at what must be denied.

Always you accept

somehow

the loss of things.

 

Forever it is raining in New York;

forever we walk into the art;

forever it is raining,

 

dams crumbling somewhere.

Forever it is raining,

and we will soon part.

 

Always we walk

With your gloves lost

among the art,

the crumbling,

the murdered.

 

Always we know

Loss is all of life.

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