From one room to the next, the gods
are becoming younger.
One’s face is broken, but he still holds
his flute and harp. For a week, I have wanted to be broken
in your hands, offering nothing
in return. The earliest pipes made of river reeds
have disintegrated.
I worry our hearts are growing cold.
Museum
Richie Hofmann
Richie Hofmann is the author of two collections of poems, Second Empire and A Hundred Lovers.