Photo by Rodger Kingston
A shadow of infernal
machinery plastered against
brownish yellow brickwork
invokes the human silhouettes
burnt into sidewalks and walls
at Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
When I crept behind this building
to exfoliate my bladder
I didn’t expect to encounter
this hulking dark impinging
on an otherwise brilliant day.
This critique of my careless habits
intends to censure or censor
my projected moment of ease.
I guess I’d better withdraw
and find a friendly men’s room
somewhere between Harvard Square
and the surface of the moon.
