by: Zona Gale (1874-1938)
- N anger,
in irritation, in argument, what happens to you and me?
- Something fine weaving us round is torn open.
- Something fine permeating us is drawn from the veins.
- Presences waiting to understand us retreat to a farther ante-room
- Little cells are incommunicably sealed.
- All this happened to me and some strange progress was halted
until something in me could be repaired.
- The whole race halted with me.
- The light of the remotest star, do you imagine that it did
- Innumerable influences ceased to pour upon us all.
- And it was because someone left the attic window open and
it had rained on an old bureau.
POEMS BY ZONA GALE
"The Bureau" is reprinted
from The Secret Way. Zona Gale. New York: Macmillan Co.,