20 December 2006 | Vol. 6, No. 4

Romantic Movies

by LAUREN GOODWIN SLAUGHTER

The plane crashed

but did the pilot

have to be so badly

burned? Our blonde—her hair

fluent, sea plants reaching

for the sea—must she love him

still (no matter

what)? Wailing

in silence by carlight

at the hospital, he's strapped

down by puzzling

contraptions. Confession

—is it needed (bowls

of diamonds?)—

Question: should I slip

on my slip and rush this

flight or wait full blushed

for the warning

call? Return: it snowed

all night and now, quietly,

I watch you shovel

our driveway (trace

trail). The dawning

shivers. Makes a sail.