1.
You find me in every photograph,
gravely staring out at you,
whispering sotto voce, “Remember…”
You try to walk away but can’t.
Dear one, you must carry me,
carry me on your back.

2.
You live for me but never meet me,
beseech me with “If only…”
I hear your refrain and am bored.
I have no face except the one you make,
hideous or lovely, as in a myth.
If you did see me, you’d be terrified.

3.
Always I am here,
your tireless faithful companion,
and yet you fly in the face of reason
and prefer those other two.

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This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 20 Number 2, on page 31
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