& then afterward

by Nate Pritts

(i)

I woke to early sun:
burning of fire, & then afterward.

We kept reaching
through the long night.


(ii)

Afterward,

the small deceptions
we allow ourselves:
a sickness, unchecked.
Like this:


(iii)

& first sunlight.
Snow continues.
I could never close my eyes to light.

But there was no light
& you looked like night.


(iv)

There must be a pattern,

snow slow-dropping in wet clusters
through the wooden arms
of empty trees.


(v)

Sun fingering its way
through branches

I’d hung my life on.
We don’t matter a bit; realization
forces our eyes closed—


(vi)

A sickness, unchecked, like this.
I’d hung my life on

burning of fire, & then afterward.


(vii)

Our arms together
we searched for patterns

& sunlight.


(viii)

Our arms laced together,
pointing together
over wind-tossed grasses.

Us: waist deep in night blue.


(ix)

There was no light.
You pointed.


(x)

Sun overhead,
you pointed
to the wind-tossed grasses.
This is a memory now.


(xi)

Together in that first sun,
so vivid:
there must be a pattern

I’d hung my life on.


(xii)

Snow dropped in clusters,
staggered & jagged.

We don’t matter a bit.


(xiii)

Reflected in lake water:
all these things I’ll forget.


(xiv)

Our arms together

but we keep reaching
over the wind-tossed grasses.


(xv)

Black smoke curling:

the importance
of night-blue field grass,


(xvi)

the importance of.

The stars are close; we try to hold together.


(xvii)

All this ends
but until then:

burning of fire, & then afterward.
The stars are close; we try to hold.
Such distance between the fallen!


(xviii)

Burning of fire, & then afterward.

You pointed.


(xix)

Grasses silently fold,
a sickness, unchecked, reaching. Like this.

Wooden arms of trees
long since emptied.


(xx)

This ends in darkness,
& all the stars within reach,
& other constellations.