The balance has tipped
For a tear is, after all, weight

Leaving me hours of an evaporation
To contemplate the disparity

Between the lived
And the regretted

I’m trying to hold my desperation
Like aged scotch

Take all the years
And swallow them quickly, in shots

Linger on the edge of consciousness
Conscious only of the warmth of numbness

But clarity is a strike
A slow bruising into understanding

While every moment of hesitation
Is revisited

Every stillborn gesture
Preserved in perfection

The crystallization of a word locked
And then the drop

The difference between us
Was the manner in which we fell apart

Your gradual shattering
Compared to this single clean break

Zetetic separator

—Thomas C. Dunn’s poems have been published in The Missing Slate, Coup d’Etat, and the West Trade Review, among others. His work in cinema includes writing and directing the feature films, The Perfect Witness and The Body Tree. As a playwright, his one-act, The Thread Men, was the winner of Samuel French’s prestigious Short Play Festival and his work has been shown in numerous theatres domestically and internationally.

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