Hometown for an Hour: Poems

Back Bay Postcard

Back Bay Postcard Brahmin boudoirs gentrify the night. Below my feet the Indians once fished. Magnolias reupholster these staid streets each spring. Time passes like checks the rich needn’t cash. April’s arrived, chauffeured by March. The tulips are filled with helium. Sconces decant the wine-colored rooms. I want every address to be my home. My Boston grandmother must also have walked here, window-shopping for class like a lunch-hour dowager or one of my grandfather’s cab fares. Is my envy less ugly than hers since I could have the beauty I crave but refuse? A dog, reckless with unleashed joy, zigzags the long allée of trees clasping the Emerald Necklace like Paris with grass and alphabetical cross streets, though an alley would make him as happy. The swan boats float empty in their lagoon, as if Grammy and I might ride them again. 51 You are reading copyrighted material published by Ohio University Press/Swallow Press. Unauthorized posting, copying, or distributing of this work except as permitted under U.S. copyright law is illegal and injures the author and publisher. ...