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Not Just Light

Kevin Grijalva

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Some years are held up to the light
and shine thin and dusty—
something you had once said,
and how can I convey this:

You said, some years are held
up to the light and shine
thin and dusty, You precluding
Years like letting you have the first
slice of summer melon, or

Some years, you said, are held up
to the light and shine thin
and dusty, Years focused and dispersed
like a prism, always diminishing
the image in view, or

Some years are held up to the light
and shine thin and dusty, you said,
the entirety of You reduced to the
penultimate period, the night cap,
then sleep.

It feels like the coldest day
and I’m not feeling myself, and do you think
of that? In the quiet
of a tipped glass of ice, there was a beautiful
image, now prism dispersed.