I was hurrying in the railway,
Blind man with his dog, dragging luggage,
Drifting sideways, talking to myself,
Modernist vaulted skylights
Above where one pictured
God peering down through soot

For he too saw through a glass darkly
When he deigned to examine us
As I was certain he did just then
In Milan, April,
The poor jostling all about us.

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