Supporting Cast

Supporting Cast

Prone as we are to lose the line

in the suck and swirl of such 

a rush, I tell them that a story of this force 

requires you let certain names flow past 

like leaf-fall or bits of twig: the woman 

who fills the wine, the old friend 

of a father’s with a good horse, the inn-keep 

who fends away the night 

for a night. It’s not negligence, I say, 

and not that they’re not important, 

but keep in mind they’re here—whether 

they know it or not—like good river rock,

to keep the current moving where

it ought. It’s a long ways away, 

but suffice for now to say 

if there’s a quiz they might be an option

but for sure won’t be the answer. And 

for those of you prone to hate the thought

of anyone left behind, just imagine 

their fulfillment were they to one day

find their whole being was margined 

in a story, that this, dear class, was art,

and what more centrality could any

border-dweller desire than to know the boat 

reached the ocean, and we the part

of a redirecting ripple or a swath

of sea foam clinging to the keel?