(from: Dusk, The Angelus)
And to speak with a certain abandon.
Or when the mind draws a blank and all I have is that blankness at the entrance to the tunnel where there have been episodes of the fantastic, droll nights, the things I never told you when we were living in the city of Merci at the time of the bomb. The mornings were dark then as if it might rain. Cats lived in the alleyways where the pedestrians walked taking their shortcuts. Angel, you were the executioner’s angel.
Putti, les amours, the loves,
later and nothing,
if I stare with the stare of a stranger.
The glow of my hand in the light of a candle. Lessons of the invisible. Grieved one. To begin with the oldest angels,