“First date” by Callie Siskel
by Ernie on 05/02/10 at 4:29 pm
How could I forget
that hour in the corner,
behind the pool table,
under the cues?
The chairs were just there,
brown leather, waiting
against a wood wall
where pairs of names
were firmly etched.
The players kept reaching
over our heads—
I don’t remember what you said,
or I said, just the scene,
the way we were tucked in
and when a player leaned,
another layer. Does this seem
like a stretch,
that our minds incline
toward moments
that are self-contained?
The heart holds out
its kerosene lamp in vain,
digging is an art
of the brain—
seduced by hard-to-reach
places, the spaces
themselves.
We lasted on and off
for a year.
You whispered things
I can no longer hear.
The dark recessed
corner, the encroaching
figures are now embossed:
the shapes last
when the feeling is lost.
From the New Criterion.
Note: we can’t reproduce the indents here, so head over to the New Criteryin’ to see the original.
