They

Pathetic bright-dark, crawling with history.
Leave it to the angels to judge me.  Gunfire
In the distance, I keep my houselights on
During the day.  No absence of memory,
 
Please, I am only just getting started.  It
Is precisely the moment to which you “adhere,”
Drawing the wounds on a faded photograph.
You say your deepest powers only come
 
Once in a lifetime, you say that we blink
Over ourselves.  The limit of anywhere is
To forgive, and the classic metaphor for
Effort stumbles at a grave.  I am looking for you
 
Always.  This is the very moment of stepping
Outside and being thrown into a glare of light.
 

Noelle Kocot, "They." Copyright © 2017 Noelle Kocot. Used by permission of the author for PoetryNow, a partnership between the Poetry Foundation and the WFMT Radio Network.
Source: PoetryNow (2017)