Resolution

Whereas the porch screen sags from

the weight of flowers (impatiens) that grew

against it, then piles of wet leaves,

then drifted snow; and

Whereas, now rolled like absence in its

drooping length, a dim gold wave,

sundown’s last, cast across a sea of clouds

and the floating year, almost reaches

the legs of the low-slung chair; and

Whereas between bent trees flies

and bees twirl above apples

and peaches fallen on blue gravel; and

Whereas yesterday’s thunder shook blossoms

off laurel the day after they appeared; and

Whereas in the dust, the fine and perfect

dust of cat-paw prints scattered across

the gleaming car hood, something

softer than blossoms falls away,

something your lips left on mine; and

Whereas it’s anyone’s guess as to how long

it’s been since a humid day sank so low,

so far from the present that missing

sensations or the sensation of something

missing have left impressions in the air,

the kind a head leaves on a pillow; and

Whereas the last of ancient, unconvincing

notions evaporate from the damp pages

of thick, old books that describe how,

for instance, Time and Love once

lay together here; how in a slurred flash

of light she turned and waded back

into the sea, and how the slack

part of any day was and is

all in the way he, half

asleep, felt her hand slip out of his; and

Whereas, the blue heron stands on the shore;

while the sleek heron turns, broad

to narrow, half hidden among the reeds;

turning with the stealth, the sweep

of twilight’s narrowing minute,

of stillness taking aim; turning

until it almost disappears into

the arrowhead instant the day disappears,

until, staring out of the reeds,

the aforementioned heron

is more felt than seen; and

Whereas, you, with due forethought

and deliberation, bite into

an apple’s heart and wish it were your own

Copyright Credit: Paul Violi, "Resolution" from Fracas. Copyright © 1999 by Paul Violi. Reprinted by permission of Hanging Loose Press.

Source: Fracas (Hanging Loose Press, 1999)