POSSESSION

The poem started long before you got here 
how far it can go and what will be left 
after death and revisions is being decided 

I have begun to misremember the room 
and the date how far a rose from a rifle 
pillow from the dream whose intensity 
was outside the region of visible light 

An evening without flies and no mosquitos 
the sun once bell high now tone deaf 
down behind the reservoir a sign of rushing 
into the narrows that perspective is 

What we are used to has a long history 
Lights come on in the brilliant machinery 
a frieze of wisteria juggling the sun’s small hands 
We remember through our belongings 
till all the apostrophes are gone 

                          ⏤The Gettysburg Review