Summer 1952 • Vol. XIV No. 3 PoetryJuly 1, 1952 |

Graham-Paige

Graham-Paige, a car I once rode in, Carried me out of this world, and I was afraid of that, Who wouldn't be? you wouldn't be, I see you Driving across an equal abyss your heart. At every crossroad Pause the exporters of their worldly good, Patient as passive As if they would untravel if they could. And my antique memory Sifts me the Graham as if Every crossroad Were a crossways cliff. So that the power at your hand and foot defrayed Is all my expectation and dismay. And at every turn you save me. You slow and save.

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