Ballet For Scene

1 a living-room and wine. Nine people. Interaction.

2 the argument which flows. Outside, moon rests
on the horizon’s steeples.

3 a trajectory graph. Near misses. Hits and
the wounded dodging the past.

In a field where fires burned there are now
ashes I once imagined to be snow.
The biting cold demanded immolation.

In the voids between sixteen years
and seven thousand time begged
fulfilment. For each second spent.

There are stories of old race horses
and back-road glue factories. Why would
I imagine the glue of my experience

to be enough to hold together
all of the photos I have used of us to decorate
the hallways of my memories.

3 you live in Montreal. We talk once
every other year.

2 that moment is still a dam between
our mountains and our valleys.

1 I didn’t leave. You did. Before my truth.