[identity profile] whiskerslily.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] fandom_poetry

 

 

 


 

The silhouette of a mountain. Above it
a dark halo of rain. Dusk’s light
fading, holding on. He thinks he’s seen
some visible trace of some absent thing.
Knows he won’t talk about it, can’t.
He arrives home to the small winter pleasures
of a clothing tree, a hatrack,
his heroine in a housedress saying hello.
He could be anyone aware of an almost,
not necessarily sad. He could be a brute
suddenly chastened by the physical world.
They talk about the storm in the mountains
destined for the valley, the béarnaise sauce
and the fine cut of beef it improves.
The commonplace and its contingencies,
his half-filled cup, the monstrous
domesticated by the six o’clock news—
these are his endurances,
in fact his privileges, if he has any sense.
Later while they make love, he thinks of
Mantle’s long home run in the ’57 Series.
He falls to sleep searching for a word.

-"Evanescence", by Stephen Dunn

 

This poem reminds me of Dan, post-Karnak. He and Laurie end up quite shell-shocked and broken, but they somehow manage to keep living anyway.

 
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