"Space Needle"

A weekly poem, read by the author.
Oct. 3 2006 12:34 PM

"Space Needle"

for Stephen

(Continued from Page 1)

and what's idealized.
What should we try to be?
If we looked down

through time instead of sky,
would we see ourselves
behind another pane—

our faces gazing back
through days or years,
until we recognized that room,

the lives we've lived in all along?
The wind is off the Sound,
and makes no sound

except a ruffle
at the rail edge.
On the tiny street below,

a man is working on the road.
Alone behind his truck,
lit by a magnesium haze, he turns

a little orange wheel,
some apparatus out of sight.
He is the perfect

model of a man, which means
we love his task in ways
that he cannot, and wish

to close the shutter on
the stars, our years, with something
like his gesture of repair.

Kristin Fogdall's poems have appeared in Poetry, The New Republic, Partisan Review, New England Review, and other journals. She lives in Vermont.

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