Seven Months Later
We are standing in the half-light
of an everyday room—
maybe a hallway to a kitchen—
and I am telling you about some large-scale
sadness; a war, the diminished lives
of an oppressed people.
the smile of someone who knows he knows
something you don't know,
but who loves you
and does not lord it over you.
You're going to kill yourself.
And there is that terrible moment
poised on the head of a pin,
when I know, out of love, out of respect—
out of powerlessness—the-room-inside-
that separates all of us,
I will let you.
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