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Day After Day

Text of Poem

The baby cries in its crib,
the young mother gives it
her startled glance to play with,
the father fingers his new moustaches,
packs anxieties in his briefcase,
holds up a finger for the wind,
sails to his office.
Beer in the icebox keeps better
than dollar bills, the rent wakes
and stares at the calendar,
a grocery list says the clock is fast,
why the hell wear out shoes
if no one smiles after the dance?
Who would die to be born again,
happiness stays in its mousehole,
the traps are all baited with despair—
a bottle of whiskey to take to church,
the sacred wafer to bribe the bar girls.

First Line
The baby cries in its crib
Original Pub Location
Original Publication Date
Original Citation
Virginia Quarterly Review 51 (Winter 1975) 72.
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