Muybridge at the Cocktail Party

Ethan Leonard

    For Kaveh

I ask her if her night is free,
the bargain bourbon burns my nose.
She turns her head away from me.

It plays again for me to see
my unkempt hair and rumpled clothes:
I ask her if her night is free.

The moment switches suddenly;
my recollection warps and slows.
She turns her head away from me.

Her gaze is steadfast. Greedily,
it holds onto the men she knows.
I ask her if her night is free

and time divides eternity --
hours, minutes, seconds grow.
She turns her head away from me

and turns into a laurel tree,
a rigid frame of passion's throes.
I ask her if her night is free.
She turns her head away from me.

A Large Glass, Odd

←

8

→