|
POWER
STATION
The
night shift’s coming off. The
sky is brown.
A
little man in a large overcoat
looks
up and breathes, forgets he need not frown
at
any glare, stabbing at eyes and throat,
from
furnaces. He stubs a
cigarette
and
tries to whistle, feeling for the note,
...
(For full text see
the Kindle ebook The
Nature of Things (Collected Poems) by Alan Marshfield)
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