A Letter Home

What’s said remains in the idea of

a certain generosity of saying it,

of speech. The sink’s been blocked

for a week and not until yesterday

 

did we get some acid. I’m glad

you’re in love. Will it last and,

even if it doesn’t, will you care?

Is that what you intended, for

 

it to last? For example, I also

love you. A photograph of an almost

empty place, because the  people

were walking too fast to be seen,

 

is another surrender to method that

garners and protects the eventful

silence, and so we’re appalled by

the chemical odours and I, angry,

 

expect that what’s seen in your

‘blindness’ is merely the figure of a

woman, rushing to scream at the

photographer, who won’t be there.

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