KM4
10 Too Late
Here the body is the sheared-off wing of the Transavia plane
lying in a scrap heap
like the knocked-off arm of an old Grecian figurine
of Winged Victory pacing down the deck of Athenian might.
Here, you can let yourself go in so many ways—
the bomb pack strapped to your waist and detonated
by pushing Send on your cell phone.
Or the eternal aesthete in his eternal pursuit
of just the right moment to see
the splintering of light passing through tent mesh
waking you to the unambivalent hate you’ve always craved.
The rivals walk off to where the broken pediments
of the cathedral still brace under the weight of the rose window.
And the body barters for the ghosts pinned down by the shadows
to come rising at this moment from the grave
telling the body it’s too late, it’s always been too late
passing over the ocean’s dry whispering wave.
Contributor’s notes: Tom Sleigh
Contributor’s notes: Michael Hafftka
KM4 Introduction: Poem & Paintings
Artist’s Statement: Michael Hafftka
KM4