7

(City Mouse, Country Mouse)

to speak not at all is to
speak too much fear,
to welcome it in from the cold,
a New York minute
when you knew it all was
perched on the edge of
The Fool’s Chasm,
sure of yourself,
memory nipping at your
ass as destiny rips the
rug from under
the city

when part of you crosses,
does another cross back?

when night begins to eat the fields,
tiny pieces of bluing twilight
drinking the rest of the sky,
incidental peace settles over
this place made of
answers made of riddles

which part crosses,
which goes back?

Poem by Shane Douglas Keene

READ THE SERIAL NOVEL BY JOSH MALERMAN