apologies to ws
no explanations
no explanations
until later, he
explains:
a difference
between his hands
heavy on my shoulder
now and the ache–
the moon’s crescent
here now, and Paris
then, but not him
then.
the sky’s less grand,
or am I smaller?
wisdom was simple,
or we were naïve:
despite the poison,
the drowning in air,
the grappling panic,
I am here without change;
patterns are patterns
even when I see them.
the house across the street
goes dark;
there are no screams
left.
(July 11, 2016)
subtext 