Peripheral Forms - a poem by Carl Rosenstock

If this were a movie, you an actress,
Day after day, long hours in the lights,
I would hold you, your face close to mine,
Your lips parted, so seduced by how
Soon your image will at one moment flicker
Thinly across thousands of screens, to be
Taken up by eyes hungry to know you
And me rehearsing the before we should know,
Though there is no before for us. There is
No photograph, no memory then. Love becomes
The moment we refrain. Freed from memory,
Only in the present, only as imagined,
We are always able, over again, and again,
To repeat this scene with feeling.

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