In it went forever
in it went a cupboard
in it fell a tin cup
in it fell a whole man
in it stepped a mongrel
in it stepped a fox
in it rested something brassy
in it rested tubs of gin
in it, in it lay a glob of ham
in it strayed a lathed bedpost
in it prayed an elusive God
in it flayed a whittling boy scout
in it played a wounded knee’s thoughts
in it frayed a flag of dull nights
in it stayed all the philosophers.
WHARVED 