A BOX FACTORY
(w/ in)
my cousin
worked at
a box factory
folding time
b/w vodka
& the bad sadness
he turned
thirty or forty
a life
in prison
for what
someone’s son
murder
a murderer
they said
what is a kid
what number
is it
(w/ out)
I moved
to Portland
when I was 26
the river there
cut the city
in two sides
like an animal
flowing north
the Willamette
winds up w/
the Columbia
which heads
to Astoria
& from there
into the Pacific
I couldn’t believe it
this world
I said
(w/ out & w/ in)
I once built a box
a shipping crate
for a highly delicate
& intricately tooled
piece of machinery
it was headed
for Houston
or maybe Manassas
& eventually
into outer space
I was ashamed
my carpentry
was wicked
gross angles
no sense of scale
inside that box
the telescope
component was
a weird child
in a large coffin
after that
they never asked me
to build anything again
|
|