After Watching The Human Stain Poem by Dennis Ryan

February27,2005

I watched a film tonight
I fully understood but can explain
to no one—not even to my wife.
Trying is like trying to play
a violin concerto when I have
no idea of how a violin plays,
the frets, the fingerboard,
and still the violin plays.
I thought of my wife sleeping,
and she was sleeping.That's the funny thing;
I thought of what she had said earlier,
how well it had fit the plot—
and how now it felt like a century later.
Finally, I thought of the couple in bed,
how they lay together, tried to understand
one another,how he came to understand her,
and she him, how they came to love each other
despite everything, and then...What good
does good fiction do when it fits the real too well?
Feeling alone with truth?The naked truth of experience?
Feeling alone with your values when everything of value
has been stripped from you?Come, sit down next to me,
join me here.The sequel is just about to begin.