There will be a story today--
for stories make better memories
alert as questions are the old ones
and distanced at every silence.
We have no capstones yet
and these corners are barely
imaginary; no trumpets, better--
no victories--only stories.
One day soon, as we know
there'll be snow and television,
clumsy museums encased
even more than their exhibits.
For now flicker--babies, friends,
daily glories, automatique--
these sunrises of every day,
in skies hiding sudden heavens.