A Seized Moment

a poem

Photo by Zoshua Colah on Unsplash

It could have happened to you, feather-glow bullseye, the rookie’s hole-in-one: sometimes, exhausted eyes collide in fiery tectonics across the bustle and slum-

glamor of a winter night in Penn Station, a split-second’s clarity, a spectacle, a magnificence crushed by the meshed spectrum of every imaginable sound, by the crowd’s determined tumult — a kicked-over ant hill

of threshing bodies, limbs, voices — and then he’s gone. You say nothing. You’re old enough to loathe your youth, proud enough to keep your cool, smart enough to hide behind silence. It’s the forever

that’s frustrating, its fascination and finality. And now at this moment, this exact here and now, has he become a father, a felon, a photographer? It probably goes

this way — one day you’ll understand that whatever split the pandemonium along that platform has no dealings with forever, that with forever we’d never care that we’re alive.

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