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Colonial Neighborhood by Louie Crew

Someday almond eyes will stare
At your carved banister and wonder
     whether it is
The Spirit That Controls
     the Cockroaches
that will hide behind your marble bath.

An old yellow man will sleep on a mat
     in the nursery.

Three families' children in the pantry
     Will eat lead paint from shelves
That store your marmalade.

It won't be money person's house then.
     No one will   care that that your foyer
matches one in Florence or that
     One niche held a medieval madonna.

God, Bless Those Who Are Afraid by Louie Crew

God, bless those who are afraid--

     Not just those who fear

the thunder over the mountains,
the clockwork mouse,
the creditor's knock,
the runaway tiger,
the criminal at large,
bombs,
a crashed car,
cancer,
an empty stomach,
a child's danger,
a lover's death,

But also those who fear

a stranger's smile,
the mob's chants,
the voice of desire echoing through a dream,
the profanation of a trust,
an impulse to love followed by hate,

your voice thundering through the garden:
"Where are you?"

No voice at all.

Bio:   Louie Crew has edited special issues of College English and Margins.   He has written four poetry volumes, including Sunspots (Lotus Press, Detroit, 1976), Midnight Lessons (Samisdat, 1987), and Lutibelle's Pew (Dragon Disks, 1990).