The Old General’s Equipage Trunk

            1784

Dawn Potter

It shields my tangled affairs:

2 leather Cases, 1 linen Valise,

alongside my Marquee, Sheets,

Quills, and Camp-chairs,

my Tent-poles and Pins, flasks

of Madeira and Cherry-bounce,

Oil, Mustard, Spices, an ounce

of Laudanum, a grand Damask

Table-cloth (tho’ not enough

whole Finger-wipes remain). Tea,

a Sugar-loaf, 2 Kegs of Whiskey,

Silver Cups and Spoons, Rough

Towels, a trifle of paid Rent,

Horse Blankets, Sheaves of Deeds,

a Telescope, 3 Missives yet to read

from that Rarity: a Sensible Tenant.

1 Survey-chain, 8 Cookery-Pans,

the vicious Slanders of a Citizen

evicted from my Denizens,

the drawing of a Tavern plan.

Map of this Road we broke

2 score and 10 strange Years ago—

Braddock’s last Memento.

Ah, my slipping Days. A Yoke

of Oxen, fat and slow, halts cheerfully to lie

in Meadows where I once thought to die.

[first published in The Fourth River, issue 9 (2012)]