by Dan Campion

We don’t like ornament.
Flat metal sheet
just off the rollers is ideal,
glass pane
unbeveled and unstained.
They look complete
to us. Like Shakers,
we prefer things plain.
we built a simple home
of steel and glass, lines straight,
each angle right,
brushed finishes,
with just a dash of chrome.
Like telescopes,
it thrilled us at first light.
Then window corners cracked.
Hailstorm tattooed
the roof. Rough knocking
on front door impressed
a floral repoussé.
Right angles skewed.
Rococo world intruded,
fouled the nest.
We reached our safe room
just in time to hear
first blows and watch
blood-red rosette appear.

Dan Campion’s poems have also appeared in Poetry, Rolling Stone, and many other magazines, and he coedited Walt Whitman: The Measure of His Song, whose third edition came out last spring.