works by william pham, 2005-present

index | poetry | fiction

SOME JUSTICE

We were lying
on opposite sides of the bed
and whether it was continental drift
or the exertion of the full moon's gravity
that pulled us against our fingertips
instead of our palms, I cannot say,
I will not say.  And instead of sleeping
I counted a thousand ants,
her head weighed a thousand ants on my arm,
and with my left hand I counted
the hairs that stood on her neck
like centurions, their spears bristling
with every exhalation.

Something clouds my vision then
I am suddenly a seer and in
the oceans of her ears which contain
the most dangerous curves I can see
everything:

what justice, in this,
I ask, and I reply,
there is some justice
some justice in the end.

copyright (c) 2007 by william pham