Sweet sadness of surrender
\nwhen I know what you want
\nand you know what I want<\/p>\n
and I\u2019ve decided to give in
\nbefore you\u2019re finished arguing.<\/p>\n
I watch the thing coming
\na mile away, and anticipate
\nyour joy when it arrives.<\/p>\n
At last when you fall silent
\nI get to offer you the gift.<\/p>\n
To do so is a gift to me
\nas to anyone who loves.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s where we go, and what we do when we get there, that tells us who we are.<\/em> There\u2019s a big difference between She said you can\u2019t tell anything Ever since I swam in that damn spring Of course I did call her, because she\u2019d called me So I invaded her while she brushed her teeth. I saw Ravenel a.k.a. Sandra at the airport. The path we travel, sings Kristina, takes us away, If you weren\u2019t so damn intelligent Still, I had this advice to offer her: No harm in that. And no harm will come to you, The spire turning in the air, describing like a compass\u2019 arm Surrender Sweet sadness of surrender when I know what you want and you know what I want and I\u2019ve decided to give in before you\u2019re finished arguing. I watch the thing coming a mile away, and anticipate your joy when it arrives. At last when you fall silent I get to offer you the gift. To do so is a…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":5352,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5342","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5342","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5342"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5342\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5355,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5342\/revisions\/5355"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5352"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5342"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5342"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5342"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n\u2014Joyce Carol Oates<\/p>\n
\ngoing away from the person you love and going to them.
\nAnd the whole world reflects this difference.
\nIt can make the difference between Africa and Greece.
\nThis is the first time I\u2019ve had wine on a plane.<\/p>\n
\nabout someone by what toppings they put on a sub.
\nI said except what toppings they would put on a sub.
\nShe said she woke up mad this morning
\nbecause her memory of me is already crystallizing.<\/p>\n
\nmy phone\u2019s been locking and unlocking with free will.
\nToday I was befuddled at the front desk
\nafter returning my keys and Ivony\u2019s.
\nIt unlocked just long enough for me to call Caper.<\/p>\n
\nat six forty-five a.m.
\nShe said a phone goodbye was not a real goodbye.
\nNeither, I neglected to point out,
\nwas what we did last night.<\/p>\n
\nI thanked her for being half of Jerusalem
\ninsofar as her claim on my memory.
\nIt\u2019s not a compliment, I said,
\nit\u2019s just a deed.<\/p>\n
\nFrom seven metres away we realized we had nothing to say.
\nAnd I watched them load my bags onto the plane,
\nlike some postmortem soul-floating-up experience,
\nobserved from inside a beautiful transparent snow.<\/p>\n
\nand never back.
\nCaper said leaving hurt her less than me
\nbut what hurt was that it didn\u2019t hurt.
\nIn the morning she missed me more than she expected.<\/p>\n
\nI\u2019d say make sure you know what you are doing.
\nBut you are intelligent,
\nand you know what you are doing,
\nand you know the risks involved.<\/p>\n
\nif you want to get some crying done,
\ngo up to apartment six nine one,
\nand contemplate the four closed doors.
\nYou can look at them like you look at ruins.<\/p>\n
\nnot here, while the early sunlight settles through
\nthe glass, and your glasses,
\nlands on our hands
\nand refuses even now to let the moment pass.<\/p>\nThe spire<\/h3>\n
\na burning circle, like a demon\u2019s magic symbol in the sand
\nthat, when complete, and with the right words whispered
\nin a language no one understands, will yield this end
\nfor which we\u2019ve laboured some two hundred years in light
\nthat feeds on precious disappearing darkness: a world
\nof rust and flame in forest and on mountaintop: this spire,
\nnow set up again, not as easily but with the same reward
\nthe child feels when the knocked-down castle is rebuilt,
\npoints upward, not to earth, because it ardently insists
\nthat \u2014 pillage what we will \u2014 we are creators still,
\nCreated; that the magic is not lost and past, the mystery
\nnot gone out of the world, because it comes from elsewhere;
\ncathedrals, stone or not, will not outlast their makers,
\nthe professions of their makers, being that they are eternal.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"