Randall Mann

Beginning & Ending with a Line by Michelle Boisseau

—in memory, 1955-2017

What kind of end of the world is this,
with no new poems from you?
Night comes too early in November:
clocks turn back; the light dims.

We met in class, in Tennessee.
Nothing can be rewritten, but I remember how
you gave me changes, and I changed.
You kept going, for twenty years.

I’m not fighting, so much as absorbing,
you said, the last time we talked.
I want to write, but the metaphors won’t come.
I don’t have a way to even talk about this.

I don’t have a way to even talk about this.
I want to write, but the metaphors won’t come,
you said, the last time we talked.
I’m not fighting, so much as absorbing.

You kept going. For twenty years
you gave me changes, and I changed.
Nothing can be rewritten. But I remember how
we met, in class, in Tennessee.

Clocks, turn back. The light dims:
Night comes too early in November,
with no new poems from you.
What kind of end of the world is this.

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photo by Ryo Yamaguchi

Randall Mann is the author of four collections of poetry, most recently Proprietary (Persea Books, 2017). He lives in San Francisco.