So now the world is coming
with its cameras to document,
to register an audience, to blur away our
homogeneity, our
hardiness, our

Everyone can tell you where they were
when the world arrived. Everybody happened
to be walking their dog,
eyes on the ocean, 11
P.M. and raining.

Those who didn't own dogs
went out walking their intentions.

Everyone can illustrate
the actions of the airplane
in the seconds before impact. A
roll, a
twist. A
wing bent across its face like a
feign, a
faint, a
knowing inward breath.

We spent the next three weeks
discussing windows. Every cracked window in every
eastward-facing pane
was a witness. It passed through us. Drunk husbands
and accidental breaks were recast,
their perspectives were flattened
in the neighbours' rushed retellings. And everyone wanted
to pause for their portrait. Everyone wanted
to figure.