Seeing You After The End
by Glen Hunting

People only want to watch

a scene like this on a screen,

not be forced to walk the plank

of its honourable politeness:

the language of the harm I kidded

myself could never befall us.

I watch the Rothko horizon

of your brow above your shades,

your eyes withdrawn from sight,

and I wonder which of us is sorrier

for what, or for whom.

The grievances that eroded us

are part of our residue now,

like everything else not healed,

not cherished enough, washed out

by the tide I can’t withstand:

that we’re no longer able

to drift or moor with each other.

You stand and squeeze my hand,

deftly blending care and torture.

This decent burial doesn’t console

me yet, but that’s my fault.

I can’t rewind, and can’t help

wanting to stall the projector,

hoping the light won’t burn 

through the happier frames.

Glen Hunting is a poet, dramatist, and short story writer from Perth, Western Australia (Whadjuk Noongar Boodjar), but currently living in Mparntwe, Arrernte Country (Alice Springs, Northern Territory). When not writing, he works for a service provider on the Anangu Pitjantjatjara Yankunytjatjara (APY) Lands.