BROOMS
2
Brooms appear in dreambooks
As omens of approaching
death.
This is their secret life.
In public, the act like
flat-chested old maids
Preaching temperance.
They are sworn enemies of
lyric poetry.
In prision they accompany
the jailer,
Enter cells to hear
confessions,
Their short-end comes down
When you last expect it.
Left alone behind a door
Of a condemned tenement,
They mutter to no one in
particular,
Words like virgin wind moon-eclipse,
And that most sacred of all
names:
Hyeronymous Bosch.
Charles Simic
