Monday, February 26, 2018

At The Florida Antiquarian Book Fair

The dealers slump in book-lined booths. They send
Sentiments from new iPhones and laptops,
Ignoring the volumes in which they are penned.
Crowds slouch in sandals and shorts, but a few attend
Dressed as dandies or flappers, pose for photo ops,
Admire Art Deco, post for Facebook friends.

Out the big ballroom doors the noon sun stuns
For a moment, then, from the hot blur
Come telephone wires slung like old tendons
Among buildings declared Historic, that once
Meant much, now merely preserved, patched with plaster,
Marked with plaques of crooners, felons, tycoons...

Above, contrails cross clouds, and a black fly
Swims in the deep and disorderly sky.
Ernest Hilbert
Topic(s) of this poem: time

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1/16/2021 10:49:04 PM #