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

Even if that is so, there will remain

—Haven’t you always thought your life

Was a calculated risk, your bushels

Of wheat, your baskets of bread,

The dead not sprouting up anytime

Soon, and what would you say if you saw one?

—Or the day you abandoned your search

For the missing word, was, or was it

Were, when you thought nothing quite

Adds up to thrush, and could you ever

Really say non ne dubito, ne sono certo?

—Or that other day you asked about how

To learn to doubt, since it can’t be taught,

No high-wire act of faith, the b, never silent

In itself, never wavers in doubt, so simple, you

Said, this world, and so complicated, you said, the next.