The Cupboard
broken glass is held together
with bits and pieces
of an old yellowed newspaper
each rectangle
of the doorframe
is an assemblage
insecure setsquares of glass
jagged slivers thrusting down
precarious trapeziums
the cupboard is full
of shelf upon shelf
of gold gods in tiny rows
you can see the golden gods
beyond the strips
of stock exchange quotations
they look out at you
from behind slashed editorials
and promises of eternal youth
you see a hand of gold
behind opinion
stiff with starch
as one would expect
there is naturally
a lock upon the door
by Arun Kolatkar
from Jejuri
New York Review Books, 1974