The chatter

from the corridor at three a.m

Rises and falls: murmurs

Lapping at the wall

In a room

purpled with night’s shadow

That crept in like an old man heaving

A blanket of shadows over corners

where memories surge over

like breakers over a reef

Swallow and break over each other.

It wets my face to remember.

Your eyes gleam from that dark corner

Where I have you clipped to cardboard

Encased in glass and a wood square

cheap gold paint.

Carved flourishes

Curl about your face cherubic.

And I see you hold a sword, you,

with your Halloween angel-wings

And your angel-of-death smile

Inscribed and glassed up

for inspection,

For one night claiming

The death of thousands

In one stroke of your hand,

But I can’t remember.

I had the camera.

But I can’t remember

Whether I smiled

when I took the picture

Or what kind of day

It was in October.

Just the kind of day

To pretend we were

more than we were.