On Ignatz's Eyebrow
the way water is always rushing between a ferry
and its dock in that ever-present gap where
the rush is the speed of the water and the rush
is the sound of the water and the water is
bitterly cold and is foul in its bitterness and
the gap is irreducible space and time and
is the ache felt by the ferry in the cold
of its iron bones which will never clang
against the framework of the dock
in the satisfying clash of solid surfaces because
the gap is where such satisfaction helplessly
dissolves the way Ignatz now feels his anger
dissipating in that self-same gap between
the trigger and the smack between his anger
and its object the way one eyebrow
can never meet the other in a true unbroken v
no matter how doomy how dour
how darksome his invariable frown.
Ignatz
Four Way Books
