04-07-2015, 04:51 AM
American Goth
We see the postcard and don't really look
at faces pinched like piecrust at a church social.
Fail to see the breath fog the black cathedral
window. Forget to kneel on the wraparound porch,
smell the decay beneath swept floorboards.
We never see the man lying awake at night
telling himself that the knocking
on the pipes is the house settling, or the woman
blocking the threshold when neighbors come to call.
If it is only a postcard, then when the mob roams
this quiet street looking for monsters,
they might be asked to grab their pitchfork and join.
![[Image: 190741_3056034.jpg]](http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/citi/images/standard/WebLarge/WebImg_000256/190741_3056034.jpg)
Grant Wood
American, 1891-1942
American Gothic, 1930
We see the postcard and don't really look
at faces pinched like piecrust at a church social.
Fail to see the breath fog the black cathedral
window. Forget to kneel on the wraparound porch,
smell the decay beneath swept floorboards.
We never see the man lying awake at night
telling himself that the knocking
on the pipes is the house settling, or the woman
blocking the threshold when neighbors come to call.
If it is only a postcard, then when the mob roams
this quiet street looking for monsters,
they might be asked to grab their pitchfork and join.
Grant Wood
American, 1891-1942
American Gothic, 1930
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson