Came by and
felt
for you, in the pocket
the small thing we said
had turned,
the small quotation,
by
a river or
streetcar, I think
we
were just talking,
like people talk, no
real thrust,
the meal,
thought
of the lake, the neighborhood,
it
anymore, it isn’t the
heading, or a letter or
a thing
initialed,
it isn’t this
enclosure
anymore,
the echo,
a small disturbance
here it is like a song
we knew,
a collection of songs
hummed
through,
gone
but also having
left,
eventually it is
an hour
superimposed
longer even, as long
as we can look
in the same
hour,
back,
until the detail
is poor,
until
it is just light
completely burned in,
never were, as if
it could be
the looking back, our
turning and looking
back, in that
exercise,
we had an end,
then
look,
you & I,
all of a sudden,
having
never been,
in this
poem,
this
one.
—
Ryo Yamaguchi is the author of The Refusal of Suitors, published by Noemi Press. His poetry has appeared in journals such as Denver Quarterly, Gulf Coast, and Bennington Review, and his book reviews and other critical writings can be found in outlets such as the Kenyon Review, Boston Review, and Michigan Quarterly Review. He lives in Seattle where he works at Wave Books. Please visit him at plotsandoaths.com.