By James Wright
The enormous muscle-bound dobbins of autumn
Are gone now, to dark barns,
Where they can be lazy,
Where they can munch little apples, lazy,
In their sleep.
And many highways are bare.
You, too, are abandoned
Beside a street, now,
Near Mansfield, Ohio.
Once in that town, that looks
Like a sixty-year-old whore selling poppies
On Armistice Day, you died
Alone.
_____
Colour Record No. 144, Side B:
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