Three Sun Sets


we had already passed your old house

& you had already told me how

you rented a room on the top floor

when you were in as you call it, sales

i had already imagined you


walking that sunken lane, a grey

river with window shadows, a city

skyline at night, a giant key. i had

already seen you, in orange paint


& orange brick, with dark wood tongue

jutting like a jaw of bitterness. i

had already decided not to ask

whether it was orange back then too

(both of us were brooding)


i had already seen the upstairs window

propped open but couldn’t see past

the shadows & reflections &

thought i should not stay gawking

but wanted to as though the more


i could find out about you

before tomorrow. the midnight sun

had already burnt a hole in both of us.

under the whale mural & husky show

you had already eaten too much ice cream

& i had already touched the amber heart

too much. you had already driven away


the top of your head almost touching

the roof, a dark sun sinking into the hill


you had already taken a picture

of me in my floppy hat & me holding

my floppy hat & with my floppy hat

on my suitcase (i, for once, took no

pictures); you had already pressed

your mother’s rosary into my hands


i had already heard the news, a forest fire

in one direction, a fatal crash in the other


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