Issue 222, Fall 2017
We trusted no one so he came
along that first dinner and felt
or inferred the pile under footfalls
ordering things there.
Their legacies of taking notes,
who’d blame us for having
a flattering evening clocking
the imprints of our friends.
Thoughtfulness drew with a huge
compass a circle on the hardwood
so the hole for falling through
would be clean.
Oh city of one mind,
the flash which alone
so much so that after you close your eyes
the valley lives
whereas those slow good
questions, the visitor leaves going
They know very well what’s coming.
Even things you
set in motion may grab you
from behind in a corridor as though you
were part of some larger scheme.