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CHARACTER
by Arthur Vogelsang
To the north there are dog races in the snow,
To the south illegal cock fights,
But the birds kept openly and noisily.
Suppose at the beach we see water jostled,
A riptide, but also a normal wave at its own top
Suggesting a benign white hole in time
Where, in this white hole, fate doesn’t stand a chance.
The story? Our sun
Is the first sun in the sense that there will be others,
Long time from now, but now this is her town
And she’s describing it, OK?
If she tells the truth he’ll understand what they understood
In the first ten seconds they saw each other,
So she explains for a while
The size of the roosters, the amount of the bribes,
Filing of beaks, I think their beaks,
Who takes the bets, the puritan, hands-off
Aspect of the owners’ relationships to each others’ women,
And he listens, with no question or suggestion,
Then, which was still under our sun,
When as you know a black hole traps energy, light, and so forth.
Her fury didn’t make her desperate and crazy,
She was interested very much in escaping
And he told her how to do this,
He was worse and would have done anything, even that.
Copyright © 1996 by Arthur Vogelsang
From Cities and Towns, University of Massachusetts Press, Amherst