Perspective – Laura Kasischke

Like the lake turned to
steel by the twilit
sky. Like
the Flood in the toilet
to the housefly.
Like the sheet
thrown over

the secret love. Like
the sheet thrown over
the blood on the rug.

Or the pages
of the novel
scattered by the wind:
The end
at the beginning
in the middle again.

And the sudden sense.
The polished lens.
The revision
revisioned, as if
as if.

As if
the secret-
had you told me when.
Who I thought
we were, every-
where we went.

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