Ode to Karl Shapiro
I am struck by the beauty of manhole covers.
Addicted to their cryptic charms.
I have brushed away sand and debris
To reveal stamped symbols.
I have kneeled at steel rims,
To record autumn images:
Waxed dark crayons, across white paper
Taped to cold, notched-whelked lids.
I have seen steam rising
From cold wintry grates.
Glimpsed rusty iron peeping through
Snowy track and icy treds.
Summer's steaming Con Ed irons
Burned my hands: melted my crayons.
Rubbings, photos, prints and sculptures
Honor these urban artifacts:
Preserving their beauty
Never outdated.
- Bobbi Mastrangelo |
