Closer Then
It constitutes the last
gasp of a wordless haiku—peering
through snow drift icicles on
a zen photographer’s window
pane in bright alabaster winter is
like watching stars melt inside the
expanse of a late period Rothko.
Ground German glass pierces
the fog of memory spirits—each
recalled and submitted for review
before imminent trial and sentencing.
Like the actor gazing through
a cigar haze at his cloudless
secretary, it is only what might have
happened between the now and
then— the minutiae of things
left undone until tomorrow.
They watch through vapours of
Pernod and cigarillos inside a
cork lined bar—the French essayist and
Scandinavian emeritus professor;
toasting each other over easy giggles.
©️Orion Foote, 2022
Visions of Orion Poetry 