← v21n2, Fall 2022
Poetry · Volume 21, Number 2

Foreign Affairs

Even when the house was frozen over

and the lights flickered as if uncertain

of themselves, we knew our losses

were transient as the weather.

Soon we washed our faces again.

We brightened the street with so much power,

when seen from a distance, the windows

blazed like white phosphorus.

Ours was a big country. Somewhere else

the electricity was always cut off

and the water needed boiling.

But who were we to explode our nights

with small concerns? He had patrolled

the shores of places famous for their sand,

and I was a daughter of diplomacy.