2019-10-04



Nightcap
--Adam Clay

Some mornings I read poems
and my first impulse is to remain silent,

as if even the simple act

of conversing would further complicate
a world continually unfolding before us.

Perhaps like an observer on the outside of a field,
perhaps like an observer on the outside of a field,
the field has somehow clouded the space around me.

In moments like last night, one can’t help but wonder
about the sharp edge of a year and the dullness

of them adding up, one by one. It’s certain
I’m not the same person I was back then and even now
I have a temptation to swerve this life off

into another one. If life is a flight
where I lose everything and everything belongs to oblivion
then I can live with that. After all, what choice

do we have? An observer on the outside of a field,

I am a different person altogether.

I am suddenly standing
there with you, your hand touching my arm.



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