It drew people to it like a fire.


The needle floating up and down its dial. 


Fishing for the news. It was a horror house, 


A band-stand, Europe in flames, 


A dummy and his master. 


                                           Among


The cloudy mirrors and calendars. 


The radio knobs are toys now. 


The beasts have been dragged out; 


No tankers hug the coast at night, 


Afraid of German submarines; the 1940s


Became the 50s. 


                                     The radio crackled


Like a forest once, or glittered


Like a pier in the brain's darkness. 


Walked by Miss Americas carrying


Flowers out with the tide.