Poetry

We have gone through
so many revisions of the prelude
that we no longer know

Admit coming upon the fallen horse at evening,
now asleep but withered, now reducing as you near, now

As if new Jersey were Babylon, an Argentine
and an Israeli argue in Aramaic, Styrofoam cups
of instant coffee warm in their hands,

[…]

All the years of nights
rapt for each other
all the joy and later
all the trouble