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Elevator Music

A slam without a goodbye,

and pangs of the world ending

by the sixth-floor elevator

until you run out, arms extended,

and moist eyes meet moist eyes

as the tough old globe spins on.

Anger’s a thing of darkness, but

forgiveness is Shakespearean: it calls for

gardens and dances, lanterns strung from trees.

I am no dancer, so instead I’ll tell you

that rage, like everything else of late,

has suffered a sea change: no longer

a bleak Bermuda Triangle

in which my flailing ardor drowned,

it’s a bit of trash, a bottle cap

bobbing on gentle waters—

much like the way this awful plaid carpet

absorbs a tear that will have dried

next time the elevator brings me here.

from Silver RosesFind it in the library

Copyright © Persea Books 2010
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Persea Books.

Published in Poems Rachel Wetzsteon

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.

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