Shamrocks

the writing, blue on white, was

a spidery lace, the delicate clump of

shamrocks fallen to the

parquet floor, the red-white-

blue-red-white-blue of the

envelope bearing foreign stamps

echoing the gold tasseled

flag we daily pledged to as

astronauts soared through black voids and

we drank Tang

in a cavern of bricks, blond,

red, thick-mortared, stone upon

stone, strung together by washlines,

narrow, sickly hedges

leaned up against some, catching

the last of the afternoon sun,

shadows lengthening upon the sidewalk

before all was dark again,

grinding of wheel-noise on the elevated tracks ever more

pronounced, now, under the

blinking of stars shining

on other shores

*published in Florida English 14