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Videotape: 51

Begins in interruption:

an ambulance bell at the center

of sleep, the room tilts

sideways, furniture slides,

an octet of amber blue

verres à liquer, one with a cut

at the lip, clatters as a quaalude

light in tatters mattes the

curtains ormolu:

I miss you

is what I want to say

like a rocket

remained from the Reagan

years, its radar gone haywire,

wiring fried but

live inside a bunker of some

private Soviet

Union you & I—

from Poetry Northwest WEBMore by Andrew Zawacki from the library

Copyright © Andrew Zawacki
Used with the permission of the author
on behalf of Poetry Northwest.

Published in Andrew Zawacki Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.