the poetry of Charles Fry

27 June 1994

civility

folded napkin
proper words
sociable dress
floating music beyond the hill
yet the murmur builds
until all i can make out is the diamond chandelier

sliced tree
sanded and iced
that we now sit across
in iron chairs
to discuss more orderly business in padlocked briefcases

inside
the hush is crowded
waiting to escape
between softer walls
revealing the power of the gilded mahogany gavel

sparkling buttons
crisp collars
waxed shoes
petrified postures
sparkling rifles
crisp words
waxed bayonets
petrified irises frozen in fear of pending seizures

Copyright © 1994 Charles Fry