Winter 1993 • Vol. XV No. 1 PoetryJanuary 1, 1993 |

636 11th

      In memory of Jean Millar 1. Ten years, one nest of seven rented rooms: what boast of loyalty and luck. I have been faithful to a house ("mere brick and mortar"); inconstant in love. Ten years coming and going, dusting the scarred wood with a housewifely rag. Sucking chips of intricate parquet into the vacuum hose. Days when the place is flesh of my disappointing flesh, all subtle corrosions mine. Ten years I've been faithful to the third floor, the musty, doggy reek of the hall carpet, imprecations in the night, a sulky fling of daughters down the front stoop, click-squeak of the iron gate, the hangnail of an aluminum window frame peeling off the crazed facade. The whoop of a car alarm, malicious iterations. Soap operas of tenancy. I know by heart the soundof impending interruption percussive on the stairs. The stretches of drab life that mutter behind locks and the vivacity of crisis. My foursquare, sad-ass lodging, hub and hive of unemployment, ne

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      In memory of Jean Millar 1. Ten years, one nest of seven rented rooms: what boast of loyalty and luck. I have been faithful to a house ("mere brick and […]

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      In memory of Jean Millar 1. Ten years, one nest of seven rented rooms: what boast of loyalty and luck. I have been faithful to a house ("mere brick and […]

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