Resolution:

A Ghazal

Under this Kryptonian sun, we resolve
to do all those myriad things put by
for other days, seeking unremembered,
lost things without any real belief
in the finding, but with the dumb
enthusiasm of the brain injured, we resolve--

If we are signified by things, if all we
have is the measure of us, if the clean
cut and well edged lawn, the whitewashed
eaves, the acid cleaned mortar between
the bricks in the wall, if these small and
dutiful things create us, to the work
still undone we resolve.

If our clothes and bright wrapping papers,
the accoutrements hanging upon our slow
dying flesh are of the most paramount and
dire importance, if watches and shoes are
more important than thoughts, more important
than what meager virtue we've attained,
then let it be, and for the sake of them we resolve.

If we worship only youth and firm flesh,
unworthy if anything but smooth caryatids
upon the temple of beauty, somehow gross
and shameful if we are softer, if we lack
the animal grace and economy of tigers,
then let these walls echo with the sounds
of our rough breathing and exertion, let
all the terrors of abnegated desire be
visited upon us gladly, for beauty, we resolve.

If we see perfection in others, these noble
traits we lack, these things that grow envy
like quickened ivy upon the walls, and again
if we are so desperate for the signifiers of
success, let us, once, at least, look the
supposed gifts close up. Let us ask after
their truth and merit in the longer road of
things before, mad with inadequate emotions
and jealousy, we resolve ourselves further.