Last day, wrapping up 31 days of looking for words (and images), sometime finding them. I'm not quite sure what comes next. Perhaps revisiting the riches of March, perhaps taking a brief rest—or joining in with some Poetry Month activity like this. I'll be dreaming on it tonight. This last bit of writing? More fragments...
Night vision
We cannot read the darkness.
—Maggie Nelson, "Bluets"
Say the reason no one answered was a power outage at the house.
Say no one knew the reason.
Say the note slipped into a slot in the box and lodged there.
Say the test results were mistaken.
Say all of it was a mistake.
Say he did lose the number, and regretted it.
Say that was the turning point.
Say you knew the words he’d speak a moment later.
Say the silence said everything.
Say the ones you most hated really were the most like you.
Say the letting go of memory was a way, finally, to unclench.
Say there was enough for everyone, but not all at once.
Say you clenched again to hear it.
Say it was a blessing/curse.
Say you stopped looking for a blessing, or a reason.
Would darkness still seem to be the absence of light?
Photo by Hugo Chinaglia, via flickr.
