In Praise of Corners
Optimism is absolutely not the point.
Believe whatever you want, whether
we’ll sun together in warm, reflected light;
or say, like a bitter granny,
don’t trust good, it spoils—
what we can believe in is lasting,
and anyway too much sun burns the eyes.
Leave reflecting to mirrors, then;
if need be, we’ll take the colder way,
to let our rough edges grate, not for pain
or smoothing, but to catch and hold
like boxes jammed in a tight hall,
stuck for good; and so the trick will be
to manage, if only once or twice,
to say the bitter thing in love’s voice.
