Of Truth

Of Truth

Of Truth

There was such a truth once.
I remember it. We all shared it
like a candle in the dark.

During the war a piece of bone
got lodged in it, but you
didn’t hear it complaining.

In a cinema after the war
I saw it looking for its hat
under the seats.
It was smaller then, a little hunched.

I don’t recall the last time
we met. I think it was in Berlin.
I’d just been to the lavatory
when I came out
to find a girl in blue jeans
staring at a patch of oil in the corridor.

Something moved in the darkness
and I stamped on it.