Endowed in perpetuity by the Glenna Luschei Fund for Excellence

Shake the Dark Out

Diane Mehta

Underneath, there was an ancient music
I underestimated so you could be minus and post
Romance in our soul of things trundling around
Old truths but not believing. Luck-seeking,
We pretended we were young, but we were only
Freak-making love-taking strangers
Shining up our contemplations, building new homes
Profoundly not our own. Alone, my trope, is this
Lingering over your major promises in minor chords,
Melodies short of lyrical. You are unlistening.
I long for scenes more narrative, midnight less ravishing.
Art and its companion-tale, your skin-sentences
Shimmering and I, except you unravel me—
Shake the dark out, and shake myself free.