Sketch of History
In the calendared world
opening all too rapidly now to sadness
it happens that
when these wars
we have witnessed so much of
for such a long inevitable time
all of a sudden
come to a halt
out of nowhere then
something sinless
and tightly freckled
appears
in the twilight of a hexed suburb
a young girl's handstand
rises above a dry lawn,
a lily is found
atop a flower cart
in an old cow barn long ago converted
to coffin manufactory,
and operating well within the innuendo
cast by a 60 watt bulb
the lifetime of which is 750 hours in length
at lunch
the casketmaker who finds this lily
carries it home
to his wife.
It is at such moments
that each of us is capable
even if only briefly
of standing alone
but not at all lonely
inside our portion of sunlight,
an allowance
the entire wavelength
penetrates
part of the wave inside us
part of the wave outside
as when in the corridor of sand
where lowland & ocean meet
and along which
we walk at present
the breeze is still & filled with afterlife,
the smell of the moment
Noxzema Marlboros Coppertone,
it carries
with it a commotion
from the other side
of the bay,
the splash of smashed concrete
and rusted iron beams, rebar
refuse & salvage.
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