Hall Gardner

Not a smorgasbord 

of international delicacies,

nor a buffet

of intricate delights.

 

Not a swimming pool

of fantasies,

nor jazz beneath

a cool September night.

 

No!

 

Is, in fact, the titanium

of slaughtering knives,

the toxic gravy sizzling

upon the reactor's core.

 

Is the gristle and sinews

severed from a human filet,

the pinpoint accuracy

of a vampire's stealthy sonar.

 

Is a taste of the town,

A taste of Washington.

 

—1979