Porousness
It is good to make the most of being money. A coin in the palm never leaves the hand. It takes us into the pockets and purses of others. We see into so few windows. Even with the drapes open and the scene we’re peering at leaning on the sill. We can’t see the action people make. We can’t taste their meal. We can’t find the spoon they seem to be serving with. It isn’t in the air we are privy to. You try to flip yourself over to the side with the face. You try to spin without the hand to spin you. Sun behind the buildings—you don’t glint anymore. Why don’t we glint in the moonlight, you ask, but the meal is over and the plates have paintings on them.
Christopher Kondrich is the author of Valuing (University of Georgia Press, forthcoming), selected by Jericho Brown as a winner of the National Poetry Series, and Contrapuntal (Free Verse Editions, 2013). A winner of The Iowa Review Award for Poetry and The Paris-American Reading Series Prize, his poetry appears or is forthcoming in The Believer, Bennington Review, Cincinnati Review, Crazyhorse, Harvard Review, Massachusetts Review, Witness, and elsewhere. An Associate Editor for 32 Poems, he lives and works in Maryland.