[…]
But on this day
we sit in that room and play cards together
while I slip my papers in the half-moon tray
and take a number, wait for someone
behind the bulletproof glass to say
take another. And I feel only love.
I don’t remember the fear of that year,
or the fear of the years that hover
before and after. I remember
the windowless room and, outside,
Beforetimes, Margot Kahn
