There is a kind of
incongruity
between the live image
and the merely well-worn.
I’ve long loved
a life lived incommunicado,
as if reticence solved
the problem
of communication.
The enemy is on
the television,
cheering. We’ve seen
this story before.
That’s why lyric
narrative is the ideal form.
Pleasant to know
someone insists
on beginning middle and end
and no more. Lucid speech.
Like a flag
waving in the distance.
