or, Light and Very Small Things
I suppose I’ll have to read you after all
I’ll have to suspend my belief
(now’s when all those things our former lovers
said about us—
now’s when we can say them about each other)
oh, darkness, begin again
begin to torment me properly
I suppose I’ll have to pledge
I’ll have to consider the average size of the new
American house
I’ll have to answer you someday and I’ll have to
find some excuse
I
mean explanation
I suppose the flag—though it is still not illegal
to burn—
I suppose the flag, like the rest of us, would
like to win
the “cerveza”
prize for literature
among
other things
other things it stands for (other things
it can’t stand)
because it can’t stand on its own
it is just not enough anymore to have been
somewhere
to have seen something, to have tasted, have
barked, have spit out
it is not enough it is
indivisible?
divisive?
crosswise/invisible
and yet it has to stand
it has to stand for something
