Lisa Gluskin


Thought Experiment

Dear, darling, now and now again
we look, and often at the past: that time
with the artichokes or just this morning,
a spring hike, the two groundhogs

and your childish, childhood
thought: Everybody's getting it on.
Well, it was the seventies. They were,
and then they weren't...
        Or we make plans. Imagine,
shall we, a world where we could see
the mundane present—me typing this line,
you making coffee—
        only from behind, catch something
in its gait, its smell, and so
make a memory. Or we could hope, hop
forward: project the baby, the big quake,

traffic jam and first hard frost. See:
Yesterday you met me at the train. Next year
is a leap year.
All our present
spent elsewhere, a mirror held over the shoulder
and a smaller one, fogged, close to the eye.

Things would still get done, somehow.
Don't look so sad. How else
would there be things to remember?
We must have been there, being here.

Enough. The sages say
be present, through fracture
and fade. Come here, stay
with me, in this small room with the long
white curtains. Here, where we say
this one word: now.



Roshambo

It will end, all
of it. It will end. Beyond you
is finite, down only to the last,

they say, who remembers
your face, or (generous now)
your name. Your words

deflect the flesh, but rock
in time covers paper,
not the other way round.

Scissors, though, are true,
if only to confettii—which flares
again as newsprint and Duraflame,

the blades meanwhile
lost to stone (that one
we got right). Rock will end

only in fire, our secret
weapon—allowed once only ever,
I mean ever.

Make paper, the most fragile.
Consign it to fire. Do it again
and again—

matchless, burning, gone.


Lisa Gluskin lives near Lake Tahoe, where she makes her living as a writer and teacher. Her poems have appeared in ZYZZYVA, Mississippi Review, Bellingham Review, and online at The Cortland Review and www.gumballpoetry.com. Last year, she won the James Duval Phelan Award for From Then, her manuscript in progress. Lately she's been writing poems about theoretical cosmology and junior high school.