ISSUE: Summer 2012
For Ambiorix, Ambrose Small, and Arthur, Duke of Brittany
That hazy, faintly discernible glow,
already half erased,
lodged in the corners of the night
like a silver bowl, delicately chased.
That was forty years ago.
When I see you now, I don’t remember us kissing.
I remember your hard words, and black bra,
and other things that were missing.
