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Article: The whispering campaign. (poem) (Regrets Only)
- Article from:
- Ploughshares
- Article date:
- December 22, 1994
- Author:
CopyrightCOPYRIGHT 1994 Ploughshares, Inc. This material is published under license from the publisher through the Gale Group, Farmington Hills, Michigan. All inquiries regarding rights should be directed to the Gale Group. (Hide copyright information)
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Hazy Friday afternoon, traffic slugs. I get off a strange exit miles before mine hoping for the shortcut home. Between tenements, the sun's intuition peeks through a pink bowling shirt on a clothesline.
I project the night. After a shower, my evening peck--the click of plastic glasses-- kids' muted voices of cocktail hour-- I never glue any more photographs in the album: instead: stash my family in ice cube trays.
I'm Lost. Literally. I just want back on the congested highway. A male = reluctant to ask directions, I orbit. No one anymore speaks English anyway, I say to myself. The things one never says out loud ...
Eavesdropping phone operators? At ...