M A R T H A R O N K
_________________________from VERTIGO
“One night near Versailles, he turned as he took his leave at nightfall”
It's the only time nothing's required of me,
you know how I am, he said.
It's the dark space where light doesn't strike the negative,
interrupting the description of sky, the top branches of trees.
Or light erases the few leaves or none hanging in the bright alleyway.
Reflection might be an activity, might be hours before sleep.
No one's narrating, but the talk goes on even after he's left.
Old roots cling tenaciously, no one should be left alone.
In the center of the photograph, in the center of the pond
a horse lifts hoofs in the air. You know how I am, he said,
never mind the passage of time, the tinny quality of the talk
the startling freeze frame of her marble mouth.
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