Poem

 

David Appelbaum

 

 

 

 

in later life

thirst comes sooner

 

a drop of substance

wrung out

with a grip

easy to lose

 

say logic

is off-stride

 

x equals not-x

 

like a cup

tipping

for the last drops

 

my eye appears

at the bottom

 

parched, liquid

 

my finger on

worry beads

count already lost

 

numbers are but

zones

of forgetting

 

so tell, o sybil

 

of the convincing

shards

dripping faucets

fill a tub

 

constant creation

evens things out

 

whiff

a hiss of radiation

 

old stuff disproves

change

 

wanting time

to run backwards

 

a feeling you can’t

step into one

you can

 

or if you do

you’re frozen

 

a dead letter

in the file cabinet

 

delivered

a century late

 

to a lost address

on the tip of your tongue

be realistic

(I tell my enemy)

myself

 

the window is dark

my self-reflection

shames

the angel into watching

 

from the remote rim

of my kitchen

 

it’s too clear

I’ll never find

 

the glass pane

looking

 

(it’s the thought after)

 

so the breath comes

to rest

 

a bubble from the bottom

of the snowflake globe

 

asking if it’s mine

 

 

    . . . .

 

dark, meaning

impervious to suggestion

 

tender mercies

in the battle of

the ruse

 

as the eye pivots

from the TV screen

 

where the shriveled man

waits injustice

 

(self-initiated)

 

to the table where

the last apple sits

 

will he have sense?

 ‘in later life’

as if come lately

like a whiff of glad tidings

 

as clocks run down

as the shirt’s

tattered collar unfrays

 

and the mind’s rusted

circuits

clunk

 

entropy knows

(by charge and orbital spin)

 

gray is the last word

 

so late is better

since the present’s chronic

revision

 

forces the margins

to narrow

 

as you cross names out

barring the angels

 

who keep time

skidding

 

past infinite nays

to remind you

 

how a moment ago

came to this world

split the difference

 

the rising sun does

between the oak the line’s

brightness bridged

on both sides

 

the negative of which

would be a

column

 

incandescently

burning ahead of

the tribe

 

leading to the promised

new earth

their covenant true

 

splintered light

signifies

 

no tablet broken

 

no doubling down

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

David Appelbaum has work in e·ratio 11 and in e·ratio 16

 

 


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