On Second Thought
One unreliable minute later, the captive disquiet
I was nursing a little too lovingly for mixed company
took a breather—took it too far, in fact, before any
new feeling like home could be brought to bear.
A swelling of dead-eyed absence began to tell,
in tones of majestic indifference, the origin story
of our smoothed-over tacit agreement, abandoned
when duty called to say I love you. How artless
the whole thing was, remember? It was beyond nature,
lacking only an answer to what might have been but wasn't
reeled in in time or pulled from the proper context to be.
So there you were, clutching a highly specific detail,
under orders to keep moving. Stumbling on this torrid scene,
or slinking away from it (same difference), one may yet
see the point of its deliberately flimsy construction,
the beauty of a forgetfully imminent collapse.