The first morning:
those first disquieting hours
trying to distract myself,
wandering, listening, wondering how
we still know less than nothing.
I never realized
how everything is permeated,
the heavy noontime air
alive with shimmers and mirages.
However much we didn't want to,
however little we would do about it,
we'd understood: we were going to perish
of all this, if not now, then soon, if not soon,
then someday.
I remember
starlings beneath the eaves,
carats of nightfall,
every sidewalk scribbled with hearts.
Source text: Tar by C.K. Williams.