In January a man walks out
on a woman and child. In February
there’s a letter—
unrelated to the woman and child
but everything to do
with January. Sometimes letters accumulate,
sometimes they are created. And sometimes
none of them
are read. But sometimes a man and a letter
share the same future,
and sometimes a woman and child do not.
It is all right not to speculate, it is all right
for the future
to be a proof
of the past. It is all right to walk away from
the sum but not the parts.
Or burn all together. Or create all together.
It is not all right
when men don’t know what it is they hold
in their hands. Sometimes a child,
sometimes a woman. Sometimes nothing.
Often nothing. And often
a man walks out on a possible life,
and often the past and future are, after all,