Industry

By G. L. Ford

Then one day the workshop

was shuttered and

a bright, desiccant, metallic

soot took place from the pleasant

and hectic comings

and goings, and we

none of us recalled

what had been done

in there, maybe cutting glass or

pouring lead type or

crafting buttons from the nut

of the Tagua palm, but

anyway it was late, we’d

look it up later, but the later

it got and the darker, the less

we found we were able

to devote our minds

to anything beyond

the small and shrinking

circle we’d calculated

we could hope to defend