Meghan O'Rourke Poems
|2.||Sun In Days||4/4/2016|
|3.||The Night Where You No Longer Live||4/4/2016|
|5.||Demeter in Paris||4/4/2016|
|6.||Ophelia to the Court||4/4/2016|
|7.||My Life as a Subject||4/4/2016|
|8.||Inventing a Horse||4/4/2016|
Never, never, never, never, never.
Even now I can't grasp "nothing" or "never."
They're unholdable, unglobable, no map to nothing.
Never? Never ever again to see you?
An error, I aver. You're never nothing,
because nothing's not a thing.
I know death is absolute, forever,
the guillotine—gutting—never to which we never say goodbye.
But even as I think "forever" it goes "ever"
and "ever" and "ever." Ever after.
I'm a thing that keeps on thinking. So I never see you
is not a thing or ...