Penciled In

Form is never more than an extension of content.

There’s not a real
word for it yet.

So, instead, I’ve
penciled in
urthma.

I’ve found
a new sense
of place there
where only
penciled
in the place
where there
was nothing
before and now
there’s urthma.

This helps parse
the reruns
between the
newer commercials
that name new
things all the
way to the bank.

Other times,
urthma makes sense
only if I hear it
out-loud, with inflection
and a slight quaver in
my voice, like I don’t
even know what I’m
saying.

The blood was
mopped up
and left only
the slightest
shimmer
of a stain.

We gather later to talk about it.

Urthma. Urthma, urthma, says one of us.

Urthma, agrees another.

This public table,
sits quietly thinking
of the next thing
to say.

Someone has left
their drink on exactly
the place where
I had penciled it in
in the first place.

Lifting his glass,
he shows the
condensation
has wiped the
word away,
now just lead
in swirls.

Ur-, one of us
starts and then
stops.

The rest of us
sit there
in silence
and stare at
our knees.

And this moment
is ours,
but just for
a moment.