share


Endings

Everything I’m writing has been short recently.

I don’t like to write endings. I’m bad at them.

 

Endings must have a stake in what happened,

and I’ve never been interested in what happened.

 

Where have we been? Endings ask.

Where must we go from here? They answer.

 

Some people, lucky ones, can only write endings—

as if forever in state of taking stock and gazing out,

 

as if to fall, to fear, these things could go on

indefinitely, as if shadow were just another word for shade.


ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTOR

studies English at the University of Cambridge. He wrote these poems last year on Yale University’s Frederick Mortimer Clapp Fellowship.

READ NEXT

Art

February 2016

'Look at me, I said to the glass in a whisper, a breath.'

Alice Hattrick

Art

February 2016

Listen to her. She is telling you about her adolescence. She is telling you about one particular ‘bender’ that...

fiction

April 2014

Biophile

Ruby Cowling

fiction

April 2014

– I’m down maybe five feet. I take a moment to thank the leaf-filled rectangle of sky, and with...

feature

Issue No. 4

Tibetan Kitsch

Evan Harris

feature

Issue No. 4

I first glimpsed the Potala Palace behind the bending legs of a prostitute. She swayed, obscuring a vista of...

 

Get our newsletter

 

* indicates required