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To Be Elsewhere

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We met in a coastal village
spent a lovely night without leaving an address
going separate ways. Three years later
we meet again by coincidence.
The whole
three years spun a novel
we abandoned:
They fail to recognize themselves
as though meeting in another story
for an encounter.
One asks: Who are you, so cold and weary
The other says: I only know a thread is loose on my sweater
            The more you pull it, the more it lengthens
            until I completely vanish.


Source: Poetry (June 2011)

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This poem originally appeared in the June 2011 issue of Poetry magazine

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To Be Elsewhere

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