Monday, April 25, 2022


Forgetful as I 
always am, 

every day that I wake, 
I must make myself 

I repurchase the lessons
which I came to know 

by closing 
my eyes and 
rehearsing them again: 

all the things we did 
and didn't—

the former, like a melody, 
the latter, its strange and
syncopated rhythm—

and all the I swears
and never agains I offered

which you 
had no space for 
and couldn't afford— 

now, a discrepancy 
buried deep in the score, 

like two 
conflicting fingerings 
for the very same chord.