 Let’s jump ahead to the moment of epiphany,       in gold light, as the camera pans to where the action is,       lakeside and backlit, and it all falls into frame, close enough to see                         the blue rings of my eyes as I say                                                  something ugly. I never liked that ending either. More love streaming out the wrong way,       and I don’t want to be the kind that says the wrong way. But it doesn’t work, these erasures, this constant refolding of the pleats.
‘Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out’ by Richard Siken
