The New York Postcard Sonnets
by Philip Dacey
The Public Library’s Main Reading Room,
great nave of a cathedral for the bookish.
Listen closely and you’ll hear brains hum.
A turning page embellishes the hush.
From the heaven of a ceiling, chandeliers.
Rows of heavy tables invite a feast
of words. Liturgical, the scrape of chairs.
Most heads down; some up, giving the eyes a rest.
Like subway riders: close and distant at once.
Brass lamps spread hominess in Bly’s “favorite
room in the world.” (From Robert, rare good sense.)
Changing times: each laptop has its outlet.
Risen to glory, the high school study hall!
Cellphone users here get their own circle in Hell.