Of all the catalogs that arrive
the holiest are those from realtors.
Curving double staircase –
someone, the architect, the original client
mentioned Gone With the Wind.
windows; view of mountains and stable.
Tall black Rubik’s cube
amidst woods, with an interesting carport,
overlooking a river.
Pools above sea. Those kitchens must require
maps. The only faces are those
of agents. Round and beaming,
in little squares, posed against door or sky,
ready to serve. If you look long enough
at the prices they become gibberish,
like repeated words. The important ones, of course,
don’t appear. Being has meaning,
but it’s only clear from certain angles.
Frederick Pollack is author of two book-length narrative poems,The Adventure (Story Line Press, 1986; to be reissued by Red Hen Press) and Happiness (Story Line Press, 1998), and two collections, A Poverty of Words (Prolific Press, 2015) and Landscape with Mutant (Smokestack Books, UK, 2018). His work has appeared in Hudson Review, Salmagundi, Poetry Salzburg Review, Manhattan Review, and elsewhere.