The Meeting

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THE MEETING


            — for Stella


It was not that I couldn’t 

see him, or that he wouldn’t 

show himself. He was all 


desire to be seen, and I all

eyes. He waited patiently

for me to show, repeatedly 


inquired after me by name. 

And to know I didn’t know him, 

and standing in the very room!


No, it was not blindness. All the same,

neither might I call it sight,

despite the presence of light 


and a being with mass. He was 

there, exactly as promised.

That said, his invisible nature 


could be attributed to no other 

factor but myself—simply

put, I imagined him differently.

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