#bifurcating

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If only there was a chance to end a poem with two different last lines, unfolding simultaneously, arriving to the destination in two layers of time for a reader, side by side, marking a final form of what the poem is destined to be, happening at once, developing in the reader’s eyes in parallel, this and also that, one way yet the other, in such exact manner but also in quite the opposite, and both, now.

It does not seem to be possible, although bifurcating poems, I imagine, have been and are written. Our attention is always limited to just one limited spot. The focus. A narrow stripe, a pointed end, a tiny dot of attention. No way to live two devastatingly differently ending poems at once.