Larry R. Brooks


Four men with serious mien
hugged the huge clapper
that hung from the ceiling on muscled ropes,
hugged it to their chests as lovers do,
and at the tweeting of a whistle
began to sway in unison,
each swing bringing the wooden clapper,
tumescent end swabbed in leather,
closer to the metal,
until, with one mighty shove,
it impacted with the side of the bell,
producing an enormous release of music
that ejaculated through the city
like a covey of white doves.


The 2River View, 4_1 (Fall 1999)