An Old Favorite

Monument

Uncle Tom’s cabin is the Rosenberg’s vacation home,
Packed with people until the walls, the whole thing, swells like a waterbed.
Flubbing on the otherwise paperish landscape,
The landscape that rustles slightly in the wind and has no depth to the intrepid eraser.
Gandhi’s rags were burned with the trash,
Lincoln’s last shaving razor was launched by his houseboy into the wastebasket,
A post-mortem precursor to the American Basketball Association.