Tuesday, December 07, 2004


for Wendy, who has never seen Star Wars

Of course, I won’t say how it ends. Silent
in the seat beside you, I’m ignoring

each tug on my sleeve, universal lever
for leveraging curiosity. But, not you, no—

here in the ornate theater of words,
these words at least, the best dreams play out

as they ought or should. Popcorn
bubbles richly up from a brass kettle

in which our faces reflect copper moons.
And the butter is gold as daisies

are gold, as bees are gold, as the pollen
they bear is also gold, and

this is all about light. In the dark,
lowered from the ceiling

like a canopy, a beam begins to become
a story. Here we are, vanishing

for two hours time, here
in the false night that yields to starlight

and moonshine, here
as sound rushes out like a child

heedless into her shivering childhood.
Everything basic is about

a boy and a girl,
lost in the woods, by bread betrayed

into an oven. Or
it’s water they’ve come to fetch

and it’s Jack whose head will break
like a heart by the end.

Of course, I won’t say how this ends.
Soon enough we’ll know.

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