Per Diem

by James Tate

Spherically wondrous sunbeam

dwelling in the mansion

of the pine of chastity,

today we bought an ice pack

for Mildred’s injured foot.

Luminous shadow

in the plumflower chamber,

Edna quit her job yesterday,

got drunk, stayed drunk,

behaved like a defective monster

collapsing in the mansion

of self-pity. Meanwhile,

the great sea of compassion

rolled in, rolled out, rolled in.

And the blue mountain

of itself remains,

and the blind shampooers

never tire of their work.

From “Shroud of the Gnome” by James Tate

(The Ecco Press: 74 pp., $23)