Not a Classic Tragedy Since No One Dies, But Almost
Here are the photographs of our last meeting.
Frozen time, and all the while the clouds
close to the window chant and recant the chorus,
trying to ad lib the changes written
between an opening act and this final one.
Costumed to exit, I lean a sophist smile
into the lens. Outside the camera’s range:
a bulging suitcase, a Greek phrase book,
The Peloponnesian War.
And here: you turning toward the rim
of the camera; my bitter eye waits
for you to adjust your sarcasm. This
is what was left of the incredible years
(our thoughts communing like kinsmen,
our two stems bending as one).
A curtain speech at a train station cafe,
frozen smiles, and backstage,
a disorderly chorus of clouds.
by Janice D. Soderling
from Autumn Sky Poetry Number 7, September 2007
Photo by Christine Klocek-Lim