AGNI Online
  Subscribe      Donate    Stay Connected    Submit      About Us  

A Champagne Brunch

by Stephen Kessler

The wrecking ball hits the building—
warm steam rises from the corned beef sandwich—
a man with a dark beard, cursing,
kicks a small dog half-way across the street
as the old wall groans
& collapses.

So the sculptor goes shuffling thru the junkyard.
A woodpecker stashes some walnuts
at the top of a telephone pole.
A woman with curly hair
stands weeping next to a bulldozer.

& now the strange hunger
felt by the fire extinguisher—
the inner monkey banging on its cage
for the sake of the beautiful 12-year-old girl
peering out the back of the Mercedes Benz—

the unskilled heart
out beating in the street
& beating with happy fear in the funhouse
whose mirrors are pre-warped & therefore faithful
even though the building is burning down.

The peak of summer. A sun
that eats away the shoulderblades.


Stephen Kessler’s poems have appeared in various magazines. (Spring 1975)

End of Article
AGNI Magazine :: published at Boston University ©2008 AGNI