When I said no matter
how pale the lavender, or opal
the gulf; no matter how many hours
a greyhound takes; how exquisite
the distance, the overpass, the corporate beige
—did it have weight? Dear
Denise: I can’t remember,
which of us was the first to write
the other into a poem?
Which of us to figure in the lower left
of a Harmony in Blue and Silver:
Trouville, 1865? Both a near-abstraction
and a tribute at once. Yet for all that
here we are, still never further,
adding a little rose, ambiguous
which way the gaze. Diagonally,
across the sand?
straight out to sea?
Kylan Rice has poetry, prose, and book reviews published in the Kenyon Review, Denver Quarterly, West Branch, Carolina Quarterly, and elsewhere.