Billy Collins Quote

Building with Its Face Blown OffHow suddenly the privateis revealed in a bombed-out city,how the blue and white striped wallpaperof a second story bedroom is nowexposed to the lightly falling snowas if the room had answered the explosionwearing only its striped pajamas.Some neighbors and soldierspoke around in the rubble belowand stare up at the hanging staircase,the portrait of a grandfather,a door dangling from a single hinge.And the bathroom looks almost embarrassedby its uncovered ochre walls,the twisted mess of its plumbing,the sink sinking to its knees,the ripped shower curtain,the torn goldfish trailing bubbles.It's like a dollhouse viewas if a child on its knees could reach inand pick up the bureau, straighten a picture.Or it might be a room on a stage in a play with no characters,no dialogue or audience,no beginning, middle, and end–just the broken furniture in the street,a shoe among the cinder blocks,a light snow still falling on a distant steeple, and peoplecrossing a bridge that still stands.And beyong that–crows in a tree,the statue of a leader on a horse,and clouds that look like smoke,and even farther on, in another countryon a blanket under a shade tree,a man pouring wine into two glassesand a woman sliding outthe wooden pegs of a wicker hamperfilled with bread, cheese, and several kinds of olives.