Theory

A child's running hard toward the height of a man, running, picking up shiny objects along the way, and the man, having built a great tower, is gazing down, squinting, trying to find the child.-To raise

memory to the vividness of the present. It was a moment of hands, eyes, of flame and salt. Sheets, white, knew flesh and let it sink. He remembers a blue shirt slipping off a hanger. That was long ago, almost

a life. Now I'm learning to feel the invisible bones of her face, dressing them with my own dissolving touch. One theory of time's a moving knife's edge, reflecting all, and all that it touches shines.

MARK IRWIN is the author of five collections of poetry, the most recent of which is Bright Hunger (BOA Editions, 2004). He teaches at Colorado College and the University of Denver.

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