[And what of memory? That car crash we passed ...]

And what of memory? That car crash we passed when I was nine;

One car eased into the trees, another upended , suspended between

Relativity & those markers of time we can't reverse-a single tire

Still turning, silently , towards that pale cerulean fissure opening up

Along the sky's edge. And the world stayed round; the sky stayed

Round. Our wheels, still turning ... Isn't there something we could do?

My mother's face collapsing on itself ... Yes , my father said, drive .

* * *

But, as Columbus reminds us, the mind is never so simple: the sea

And the land together form a sphere, & afford mutual support to each other,

As the kernel of a nut is confined by its shell ... & so too those parents

We sleep beside; touch to know they're real. How far is too far gone ?

What were we thinking ? When were we thinking we could go ? Our wheels,

Still turning over the snow & sluice, the asphalt cinders of a road

That bent beyond these mountains, or burrowed its way through?