To hear him speak of it,
perhaps you’d think him unclear,
the way sentences spiral outwards
until, reaching what’s yet to be spoken,
he’s finding new fixed points –
a dangerous promise, the hurt
which even triumph contains,
this year’s anniversaries of war,
the specific occasions and their weight.
It is not enough to reverse
into commemoration. That’s something –
but here he is and saying it again:
the game’s not up yet, no.